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twisted-lover-boys · 1 year

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Can I pls request all the dorm leaders with an albino boyfriend

With An Albino Boyfriend

{not proof-read}

Of course!

I know that the common myth is that albinos have red eyes but they usually have blue eyes so I gave him baby-blue eyes. Think Gojo’s eye color from jjk—

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🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

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Riddle was immediately drawn to you because of your appearance. Of course you were covered heavily by the ceremonial robes but he could faintly see your pale skin and snow-white hair. He was mostly interested in your eyes which were a bright baby-blue which stood out against your pale skin

He finally got an explanation to your appearance when you told him that you were an albino but that didn’t make him love you any less

Your skin is very sensitive and he knows that so he always reminds you to apply them and carry them with you in case you need them again. He even might carry some himself in case you end up forgetting

When you’re outside, he’s even more worried about you. He makes sure you cover up your arms and legs and at least wear a hat and some sunscreen. He doesn’t want you to end up getting a sunburn, especially with your sensitive skin

When the situation calls for it, he will offer any covering clothing of his. He doesn’t have much but he always gives them to you if you need them. Long-sleeve shirts, gloves, even jackets just to name a few

Despite having to be careful with your strong sensitivity to light, he can’t help but love you all the same. Your gentle and caring nature always making him swoon deeper for you

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Leona has met a lot of people with being the second prince of the Afterglow Savanah after all, but you were different. You were very pale with white hair to boot and blue eyes that stuck out from your appearance

He had assumed that you were albino since it’s a rare occurrence in beastmen and was proven right when you told him such. Doesn’t mean he cares about you any less though

He always reminds you to take care of your skin and scolds you if you forget. He’s made it a habit to carry them around in case you forget please he worries about you

He always makes sure you’re covered before you go outside. He doesn’t show it but he’s really worried about you, especially with such light-sensitive skin. Sunscreen, hat, gloves/arm covers are essential

Leona does lend you some of his old hoodies or joggers that he doesn’t wear anymore with the excuse that they don’t fit him anymore. They absolutely do but he won’t admit he’s worried about you

He has never once complained about your sensitivity or your needs throughout your relationship because he loves you despite all of that. Your caring attitude is all it takes for his tough-guy act to crumble around you

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Azul has never seen a person like you before and yet found himself mesmerized. When you met, he was immediately drawn to your snow-like skin and hair with mesmerizing blue eyes that reminded him of the coral sea

He was finally given and answer to his question when you said that you were albino. Nothing really changed between you as he didn’t care about your appearance, he still loves you

Azul also has sensitive skin but not in the same way you do. Since he’s a merman on land, his skin gets dry very often so you both do your skin routines together and remind one another to carry extra in case you need it or forget

You’re both prepped when you have to go outside. Arm covers, jackets, gloves, and even hats when the heat becomes unbearable. Sunscreen is also an essential and you’ve both made habits to just carry a bottle for outside

He gives you his jackets and long-sleeve shirts and you give him your hoodies and arm covers. It’s a fair trade but nothing ever gets returned on time—

Azul is so soft for you, even if he doesn’t show it or know how to show it often. No matter what you look like, your gentleness with him is all he needs to melt in your hands

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Kalim has met many people because of my family but he’s never met someone who looks like you. Pale skin and snowy hair to match it with radiant blue eyes to complete the look. He was very interested in you and immediately wanted to know more about you

When you said that you were albino, he let out a small “ooh!” since albino’s are not very common at all in the Scalding Sands. Now it just gives him a reason to love you even more

Kalim is forgetful but he never forgets about your skin care. He always carries your stuff with him even after he sees you apply it. He just wants to be safe!

Kalim doesn’t burn easily but he knows that you do so he always doubles, even triple, checks that you have everything you need to stay covered. Sunscreen, hats, and arm/leg covers if you use them

All of his clothing is very loose and open but he does give you his hoodies and his cardigans if you ever need them…it’s just that sometimes he forgets that he gave them to you for the day

Kalim holds you so close to his heart. He loves you so much and doesn’t care about your appearance because of how caring and soft you are. He just…swoons

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Vil has met a lot of people throughout his career but he’s never met someone like you. Snow-pale skin along with white hair. He was mostly drawn to your eyes, which shined an amazing crystal blue

He figured that you were albino and it was confirmed when you told him. Just because you look different and need specific needs doesn’t mean he loves you any less

Vil has always fussed over your skin and still does, just even more now. He saw your current skin products, gasped, and gave you his own. Now, your skin looks so much better and you still get coverage!

Vil will give you leggings and arm covers if you need them to go outside. He does have a few hats but they’re more for fashion than for coverage…

He fusses over your skin like a worried parent but he just loves you so much that he doesn’t want you to be hurt. He doesn’t want your gentleness to be hurt by some simple sunburn

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Idia never gets to meet a lot of people because he’s a shut in but he doesn’t regret coming out of his room that day. Your pale skin and white hair stood out amongst the crowd and your blue eyes shone so brightly…he never thought he’d be able to talk to you without stuttering like a fool

Your appearance was explained when you told him that you were albino. His love for you didn’t falter even after you told him because you just explained why you looked that way, doesn’t matter what you look like for him to love you

Oh Idia absolutely has light sensitive skin and does have stuff for his skin but it’s just like putting on lotion and saying “done” so don’t trust him with your stuff

Despite that, he knows how to cover up when going outside and will make sure that you’re also covered so that you don’t have to go back in a hurry in case you forget. Sunscreen is essential and is non-negotiable between you

He has a lot of hoodies and is open to share them with you so long as he gets them back eventually but he might just turn a blind eye if you beg ask

Your appearance may have been what drew him to you in the first place, but it is not the defining factor of your relationship. Idia never thought that he’d fall in love, let alone with such a kind man like you.

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Malleus has met a plethora of people in his life time, but you’re the first man whose appearance caught his eyes. Snow pale skin and pearl white hair, with blue eyes that stood out like sapphires…just describing you like that isn’t enough to show how he feels about you

He has met albino people before but just wanted to hear you confirm it before he assumed. Nonetheless, you’re still perfect in his eyes

Malleus also probably has light sensitive skin and always makes sure to take extra care of his skin, and that goes for you as well, as he constantly reminds you to take care of yourself

Every single piece of clothing of his in very black and very covering and he’d give you them if you didn’t have your own. Even if you didn’t have covering clothing, you’d both apply sunscreen on each other just to be safe

Arm covers, long-sleeved frilly shirts, coats and jackets, literally anything that can help protect your skin from a sunburn he gives to you even if it’s blistering hot

Malleus holds you very dear in his heart. Your caring and gentle nature luring him close until he fell head over heels for you. Even if your appearance was different, he know dog wouldn’t have changed a thing

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🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

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venomroses · 3 months

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Zones Fashion

Obviously we all know how killjoys dress, but not everyone in the desert is a killjoy. So here's my headcanons about how non-killjoys in the desert dress. Below the cut because this is gonna get long:

Note: Edited this so rb this version please!

These forms of dress are specific to smaller, more isolated groups where people are usually at least 1st gen zoneborn, and doesn't apply to neutral towns, killjoys, those who follow more traditional city styles, etc. Also I know I said I was going to do drawings for this and I might add those later but for now just text bc the drawings aren't coming out how I like.

Younger kids (2-7):

Both girls and boys have long hair because protects them from the sun without trying to get them to keep hats or hoods on since kids can be difficult about the required amount of clothes, let alone additional stuff. It can also be hard to find children's sized clothes, so many guardians don't bother with "unnecessary" items. Hair is usually kept long enough to tie out of their face because kids also make lots of messes, but sometimes hair will be a bit shorter (usually for boys).

Younger siblings will rarely have anything that isn't a hand-me-down, so if you have an older sibling of the opposite gender then you're probably going to be dressing like the opposite gender for most of your childhood. This is rarely an issue since gender doesn't usually have the same relevance as it does in the real world.

Long skirts are common regardless of gender because they keep the legs covered to protect from sunburn. Also, you can grow significantly before an ankle-length skirt becomes too short, unlike pants where you just have to get new ones when you outgrow them. When skirts get short enough to start exposing a lot of skin, extra fabric can be sewn on, or leggings can be worn underneath. Wraparound skirts are preferred because you don't have to adjust the waist at all when the kid grows, so you don't have to worry about buying/making new clothes all the time. However, other types of skirts work just as well.

A lot of younger kids get homemade shoes. They don't need to be great quality, they just need to keep the kid from burning their feet. Once a kid is old enough to begin helping with the family business (if there is one), go on trips with their guardians, etc. they get real shoes since it becomes more important once they're working or away from home for longer periods.

Then older kids (8-12):

At this age kids are old enough to want to have more freedom of expression so styles vary a bit more.

Since they're mostly still wearing kids sized clothes which are harder to find in the Zones and outgrowing things quickly, hair is still usually kept long to protect them from the sun in place of a hat or a hood that would either be too big or outgrown too quickly to justify buying it. However, sometimes they'll get their hair cut short, especially boys. Regardless of length, there's more variations in hairstyles, since it's a form of expression that doesn't cost any money.

Skirts often come above the knees in the front for more mobility/range of motion. Kids this age are old enough to help with work or chores, so it's easier if they don't have to worry about the restrictions long skirts can bring. At this age skirts are less about practicality. Long skirts are seen as a more childish style as the main point of them is to let kids grow without needing to buy tons of new clothes all the time, and skirts of any length can be impractical. Some guardians don't see the point of the skirt if the kid is just going to be wearing pants underneath anyway and the kid transitions into just wearing pants. For those who do keep wearing it, it makes their ages and allegiances clear. Since "adulthood" is pretty much "whenever you look like an adult" or "whenever you can do the same work as an adult" it makes it clear that this is a child, and that they're not a killjoy (since some killjoys can be this young).

Again, kids this age usually aren't working actual jobs yet, so sandals are more common than closed-toe shoes that might be required for a more dangerous job. Sandals are preferred over closed-toe shoes since they take less supplies to make so they're cheaper. These sandals might be homemade or might be made more professionally.

Younger teenagers (13-15):

This is the age where you'll see a lot of actual variation in style. First short haircuts are common at this age. Some kids might have a job, so hair length is usually depending on the job they have instead of gender. A job where they're often inside or where long hair would get in the way? Short haircut. A job where they're often outside? Long hair. Of course, some people will still pick a style they like over practicality, but looks over practicality is a very killjoy-esque mentality that most of the desert does not follow.

Outfits vary a lot, again based on what's practical for work, but it's common for their clothes to be a bit oversized, since they're usually still on the smaller end even if they are wearing adult sizes by now.

Some kids still wear skirts to indicate their age if their guardians feel that they're not ready to be seen as an adult, but many wear pants only.

Most kids have close-toed shoes now, but again they might be a bit too big. Rags can be stuffed in the toes until they fit properly.

Older teenagers (16-19):

Can pretty much look like anything! Just like for younger teenagers, haircuts and forms of dress are more specific to what you're doing, since most people have some sort of job at this age. Skirts are not worn anymore.

Jobs often work like trades, where you learn to do something and make that your career, instead of switching between them a lot. A lot of jobs are making necessities like clothes, candles, and food, or services like doctors/nurses, messengers, etc. Sometimes certain professions go together, like gunsmiths (who can make or fix guns) will work with artists for killjoys or anyone who'd rather have someone else paint their raygun for them. Markets are a great place to sell their wares so a lot of vendors there are going to be people like this.

If you're interested in other types of people in the Zones/time periods and how they dress send me an ask or something bc worldbuilding my beloved <3

#danger days #the zones

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years

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kiss you // lando norris

summary: the four times lando norris realised he was madly in love

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: mention of sex, mentions of the miami 2022 gp crash. lando being a dumbass at the beginning but he gets his brain cells back, don’t worry

author’s note: so i guess that i’m committing to writing on here now- this is technically the second part in the ‘one direction’ series but each fic is a stand alone with a different driver. the first part is ‘night changes - lance stroll’ and can be found on my masterlist if you are interested.

the first time

the monaco roads were precarious, and lando should have known that. but alas, here he was, out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere with a flat tyre that- shocker- he didn;t know how to change. i mean, he's never had to. he’s lando goddamn norris.

“fucking shite!” he shouted, kicking the tyre rim. “this is what you get for not listening to daniel when he tries to teach you useless life skills!”

he was still fuming when a smaller, much simpler car pulled to a stop behind him.

a volkswagen beetle. charming.

and then she got out of the car.

“it’s not every day you see some fucker in a mclaren at the side of the road with a flat.” the white halter top she wore showed off sunburned shoulders, shoulders dusted gently by her short hair. a baseball cap sat on her head, adorned in the mercedes logo. “need a hand?”

“yes, please.” lando was aware that he sounded desperate, but there was no way he was leaving his luxury supercar at the side of the road and walking back to his apartment complex, and here was a beautiful stranger in vans and cutoff shorts who was simply offering to fix everything for him.

so how could he say no?

“how are you going to drive something as gorgeous as a mclaren and not know how to treat it right?” the girl grinned, kneeling down to inspect the tyre. “christ, what did you run over?”

“no fucking clue.”

the girl turned to look back up at him, squinting from the sun in her eyes, and lando was overcome with a vision of the beautiful stranger on her knees for a very different reason. one that wasn’t so innocent.“you’re one of those formula race car drivers, aren’t you?”

lando wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or insulted. “maybe. depends. who’s your team?”

the girl laughed, a beautiful angelic sound. “didn’t you see the cap?” she tapped the baseball cap on her scalp. “mercedes or bust, baby. i’m y/n, by the way.” she reached out a partially sunburned hand for lando to shake.

“lando norris, driver for mclaren.” lando took her hand and shook it gently. her skin was soft- christ lando tell your brain to be quiet-

“huh, a mclaren driver? so you know daniel ricciardo?”

lando shrugged like it was nothing, but his palms were getting clammy and suddenly the button-up linen shirt he was wearing was too warm.

y/n got to her feet, dusting off her knees before taking off her hat and throwing her hair back in a top knot using one of the scrunchies on her wrist. “come on, you muppet. i’m not just changing the tyre for you, you’re gonna learn. it’s a life skill.”

she grabbed the tyre iron from lando and got to work, guiding the mclaren driver through every step so that the driver would be able to figure it for himself next time. when lando offered to lift both tyres for her, y/n laughed at him, proceeding to pick up the spare by herself and holding it in place for lando to put the nuts back on with the ratchet.

twenty minutes later, y/n was confident that the mclaren car was safe to drive.

“thank you so much, y/n. you don’t even know.”

y/n grinned. “what are you gonna do to make it up to me, norris?”

lando’s heart started beating faster and faster, his breathing shallow as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khakis. he could think of plenty of not-so-innocent ways to make it up to y/n, but he feared he would come on too strong. she was different, and he wanted her to stick around for a while.

“coffee?” he suggested, mentally kicking himself for being so lame.

y/n chuckled. “i don’t drink coffee, but i could go for a godiva hot chocolate. i know a place. i’ll drive, you follow?”

the coffee date was incredible. y/n was truly the most fascinating person that he had ever met. they talked for hours, and he never wanted it to end.

neither did y/n, her heart swelling every time lando made her laugh. the stitch in her side hurting with each paddock story that had her clutching her stomach in laughter.

so it was no surprise that they both found their way into lando’s apartment that night, y/n pressed against a wall as lando kissed her neck, her hands tangled in his hair as he left marks up and down her skin, his hands slipping up the back of her shorts before he carried her to bed.

the second time

they had been together for two wild months. two of the most incredible months of lando’s life. y/n spent more time at lando’s apartment than she spent at her own.

they were infatuated with each other.

as soon as the elevator doors slid shut, their hands were all over each other, lando’s soft lips on hers, kissing her hungrily. his thigh between her legs.

when the doors opened on lando’s floor, they stumbled out of the lift, hand in hand and giggling like teenagers. neither party could wait to get back to lando’s, limbs tingling in anticipation of what was to come next.

they got to the door, and lando dropped her hand to look for his keys.

they weren’t in the pockets of his slacks, nor his blazer. he stood in front of his own house door awkward;y, patting himself down in search of the elusive house keys.

“lando? babe, what’s wrong?”

“i think my keys are still sitting on the kitchen table. damn auto-lock is going to stop us from getting inside.”

there was a pause of about three seconds, and then they both burst out laughing.

“are you fucking serious?” y/n gasped through laughter. “there’s no way. this shit only happens in movies!”

“i don;t know what to say.” lando giggled drunkenly, reaching into his jacket pocket for his phone. “let me call daniel, see if he can bring me the spare.”

“it’s still so surreal to me that you can just call daniel fucking ricciardo.”

“i thought you were a mercedes girl?’

“mercedes is my team, but danny ric is my driver. where he goes, i go.”

minutes later, lando hung up the phone, sighing resignedly as he leaned against the locked front door. “he’s gonna be at least half an hour. he’s not even sure where the spare key is.”

y/n bit the inside of her cheek. “i’m sure we can think of something.” she popped open her purse, thumbing through tubes of chapstick, lip gloss, her wallet and phone until she found what she was looking for. “aha!” she exclaimed, extracting an uno deck from inside the small leather clutch.

lando grinned. “uno? you really want to open that pandora’s box here?”

“what else are we going to do?”

so lando and y/n sat in front of the locked door, brightly coloured cars in their hands as they played uno until daniel arrived, a broad grin on his face and lando’s spare keys in his hand.

“who’s winning?” the aussie laughed, looking at lando’s overflowing hand and the grim expression on his teammates face. “probably not lando, am i right?”

“fuck off daniel.” lando whined.

y/n’s jaw dropped. “that’s daniel fucking ricciardo.” she got to her feet, extending her hand for daniel to shake before hastily introducing herself.

“where have you been hiding her, lando? why hasn’t she come to any races yet?”

“she never asked?”

“lando never offered.” y/n countered. “i’d love to, though. if that’ okay with you.”

lando’s cheeks went pink, and he averted his eyes from daniel and y/n. “yeah, i’ll call zak in the morning and see what we can do.”

daniel tossed him the keys. “don’t do anything that i wouldn’t do, kid. and for the love of god, use protection. nobody wants a baby lando running around!”

“DANIEL!”

“alright, i’m leaving!”

the third time

miami 2022.

the inaugural miami grand prix was a big deal. so naturally that was the race lando insisted y/n join him for. she had already been to three more low-key events, but lando insisted that y/n needed to be in miami.

they had flown in five days before, and had spent their time alternating between disney world, universal studios, the beach and the king sized bed in the villa mclaren had rented for their drivers and crew.

“good luck, rock star.” y/n grinned, pressing a kiss to lando’s lips before zak ushered the young driver into his car. as he ran across the garage with his helmet in his hand, lando threw y/n a thumbs up and blew her another kiss.

she was wearing another halter top, this one in mclaren’s signature papaya orange, and much to lewis and george’s dismay, the ball cap on her head had been replaced with a mclaren cap. the bell-bottom jeans she wore were lando’s favorite: he thought they made her thighs look incredible and had already bent her over the massage table in his driver’s room while the w series race was happening.

everything seemed to be going fine. it was still early on in the race and lando was in a good spot.

and then pierre gasly’s alphatauri went into the back of lando’s bright orange mclaren, sending him spinning out.

“lando!” y/n shouted, heart leaping out of her chest. she was sitting in the garage with the mechanics, and each one looked more nervous than the last.

the crash was messy, and the car had basically been totalled, one stray tyre spinning off into the barrier.

“i-is he okay?” y/n stuttered, playing with her hands.

the garage was silent, waiting for lando to respond.

“i’m okay!” the brit’s voice rang out through the garage. “i’m okay, guys! tell y/n that i am okay!”

she thought her knees were going to give way from relief as she exhaled, grabbing on to the back of a folding chair for extra support.

she monitored the safety car’s progress as the aston martin car carried lando back to the garage. her legs were still shaking, and one of the mechanics had offered up his chair so she could sit down.

when lando walked back into the garage, y/n was on her feet in an instant, running over to the mclaren driver and throwing her arms around him, not caring about the fact that his body was literally drenched in sweat.

“i’m so glad you’re okay.”

lando inhaled deeply, savouring every iota of her scent as he held her close, burying his head in her neck.

“i love you so much. i’m never gonna leave you, i promise.”

the fourth time

traditionally, the last race of the season happened in abu dhabi, and this year was no different.

but lando norris planned to make it different.

y/n had travelled with him, and the morning after the world title was awarded, they hopped on mclaren’s private plane and left the country. lando had spent months planning this, with daniel and carlos’ help. y/n didn’t know where the plane was going, lando had kept it a surprise.

lando had booked a private villa in saint tropez for the first two weeks of the off-season, before his return to england was mandatory.

he had a two week buffer period in case he chickened out the first time.

the first night, lando insisted on dinner at a quaint seaside restaurant by candlelight. he spent as much of the meal as he could holding on to y/n’s hand. he couldn’t get enough of her smile, her laugh, the feeling of her tiny hands in his.

she looked like an angel in a white strapless sundress, a small floral bandana over her short hair.

it was now or never, and if he chickened out, daniel would never let him hear the end of it.

“y/n, can i ask you something?” his knee was bouncing like crazy, just shy of bumping into the cast iron table.

she had her head cradled in her spare hand, bright smile on her face as she ran the pad of her thumb over lando’s knuckles. “fire away, baby.”

the mclaren driver took a deep breath. “remember in miami when i promised that i was never going to leave you?’

she nodded, a confused look clouding her eyes.

“well...” lando took another deep breath and got to his feet, taking y/n’s hand in his before sinking down to one knee. “i meant every word. i don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

y/n couldn’t believe it, jaw hanging open in shock as lando pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“will you do me the honor of letting me become your husband?”

“yes, lando! a thousand times yes!”

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #adorable british boy #mclaren #lovelytsunodas one direction series

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rfxiii · 7 months

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a bit of a odd request Franklin Clinton x EXTREMELY PALE reader

ISTG I burn so easily and get made fun if sm😭😭😭😭😭

Franklin Clinton with an extra pale S/O:

*His protective mode is activated every time you guys go out. If you’re wearing clothes that expose your skin (tank top, shorts, etc.) he’s going to remind you a hundred times to put on sunscreen before leaving the house. If you’re going to be gone for extended amounts of time (at the beach, at a concert, walking around town) he brings more sunscreen with him in his pocket to make sure you’re always covered.

If, on the off chance, you do still end up sunburnt he’s got everything already at his house to make it easier- he’s got ice packs, aloe cream, lotions, and pain medicine. He’s bringing you ice water round the clock to keep you hydrated and doing anything he can to keep you comfortable. He doesn’t often get sunburned but he can tell by how bright red your usually pale skin is that it must really hurt.

He may tease you a bit about how pale you are and how easily you get sunburnt but it’s all in good fun and he’s always there to be the first one to make sure you’re prepared for a day out in the sun. He’s the only one allowed to pick on you though. Lamar may have tried calling you things like “vampire” and other childish, silly names. But Frank is always there to tell him to fuck off and quit being stupid, even if you take the teasing in stride. He thinks everything about you is perfect and he lets you know that daily. You being extremely pale is just a part of who you are, and while your friends may pick on you for burning so easily and being so light he’s always there to tell people off and make sure you’re protected when you’re out in the sun.*

“Ay, hold up!” Franklin calls after you almost frantically as he stops you at the door, “What are you doin’?”

You tilt your head in mild confusion, giving him an absent shrug, “Getting ready to go out? You said we’d go to the beach today.”

With a tinge of concern in his voice, Franklin places a hand on the top of your head. "I know we planned on hittin’ up the beach, babe, but remember you burn pretty easy. We gotta make sure you're protected." He teases, pulling out a big beach bag stuffed with various items. "I've got this covered."

While you watch without argument, bemused by his protectiveness, Franklin begins pulling out an array of sunscreens, from SPF 30 to SPF 100, along with a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and a colorful beach umbrella. "We gonna have the best beach day ever, and you won't get fried."

You can't help but chuckle at his determination, appreciating the thoughtfulness. "You're amazing, Franklin."

He winks at you. "Gotta make sure ya taken care of, right?"

With Franklin's careful preparations, the two of you set off for a day at the beach. Under the shade of the umbrella, you enjoy the sun and the sound of the waves, without worrying about getting sunburn. If there was one thing you loved most about Frank it was how much he cared for you.

#grand theft auto v #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto 5 #franklin clinton #gta x reader #x reader

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micewithknives · 2 years

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I’m going on my first dig next year (likely in Italy). What do I need to bring and what do people ACTUALLY wear on a dig site so I don’t look like Indiana Jones’ tourist cousin?

Admittedly I don't know much about Italy or climate stuff there, so bear in mind that this is advice that isn't related to that (also @chaotic-archaeologist has some really good resources here )

It's also a little different if its a field school, or more work related. But I'm having a guess its a field school? In which case you will probably get a list of things to have/things that will be provided. In most cases this includes all your digging equipment and all that sort of stuff. So its just you and your clothes and a few odds and ends that you have to worry about. So:

SUNSCREEN. Bring your sunscreen. and wear it. reapply it every few hours. even in weather where you dont think you'll need it. sunscreen is your friend. no one likes sunburn, and no one likes skin cancer.

Bring a hat. Wear your hat. Consider the fact that if you have a hat that is decently made and lasts, this hat will become your identifying feature. (Yes i speak from experience). Ideally this hat will help you stop being sunburnt - weigh up whether you want a hat with a decent brim, or if you want a hat that is fabric that you can shove into a bag.

Clothes that can get dirty. This seems somewhat obvious, but you would not believe how many people fail to consider this. And i dont just mean clothes that are ok to get dirty and then wash. Treat these clothes as absolutely irredeemable. If they come clean, thats a nice surprise. If not, well no ones disappointed.

I personally stick with a pair of jeans or work pants. And a t-shirt/long sleeve shirt (depending on the weather) and then a flannel/other button up shirt over that. Layers are your friend. Chances are you will get hotter than you think you will. But when you stop working you will cool down again.

(I know some people who hate working in jeans though so think about what you're comfortable in).

A water proof jacket - it doesnt have to be that warm, it just has to stop you turning into a drowned rat

ALL the socks. Depending on what the washing scenario is... sometimes you rewear your shirts and pants. (Clean is a relative term some days). No one likes old and/or damp socks though. Always have clean socks.

Hiking boots are often what i find work best for shoes. But your job might have specific safety requirements. Always follow the safety requirements. Make sure your shoes have good ankle support. Or you will find yourself in pain. Ideally make sure they’re a little worn in first. For the same reason.

Bring a waterbottle. Or two. Drink water. Bring hydralite or something like that if you can. It will be your best friend.

A notebook. Take notes on what you’ve done daily. Draw pictures of your excavation area. In the wise words of one of my lecturers at university, the entire plot of The Last Crusade happens because someone couldnt keep a good excavation diary. Sometimes these are given out on fieldschools, but even if its not, its a good habit to get into.

This is about all i can think of off the top of my head at the moment, but I’ll add anything else I can think of later. Also everyone else is welcome to chime in with other suggestions. I can guarantee there is something I have missed

#archaeology #field work

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kozumebunny · 2 years

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Hear me out, Devildom is ususlly cold and MC lived in some place like Arizona/Florida/anything really and Obey Me brothers going there only to meet the heat

Idk I thought it'd be funny lol

- ♤, a person who lives in Florida

Oh! An anon with an identity?? Insane

Also Florida humidity is gross spades (that is a spades symbol right??) its so bad for my hair it sucks all the moisture out of it

Lucifer takes it in a stride. Chances are he is the most PERFECTLY packed brother. Has left over space in his suitcase to bring things back. Cycles through all of his outfits and even has a little trash bag for his dirty clothes? Has sunscreen and a hat. He probably isn't a fan of the heat but he won't complain.

Mammon complains. He complains so much its annoying. His leather jacket? He tries to wear it in 80 degree 75% humidity. Why? For the fashion? Because it's his safety jacket? I don't know. He's stubborn. His sunglasses do come in handy here though! Won't wear a hat either. He doesn't want to mess up his hair.

Leviathan doesn't want to get out of his hoodie because it makes him feel safe. Out of all the brothers most likely to suffer from heat stroke. He does enjoy the humidity, although it's my personal head canon it comes from him enjoying more wet/moist environments! He likes the indoors anyways so he probably would hide out indoors anyways. Beach days with this guy? No he doesn't like the feel of sand.

Asmodeus wears a crop top with a heart shaped booby hole cut out. I'm right and I should say it. Thrives in the heat. Wants to go to the beach, get a tan. Has a little thing of sunscreen on him at all times. Doesn't like the heat only because he starts to sweat.

Satan isn't crazy about the heat. It just makes him feel like a wet puddle. Dresses like a normal person in shorts and a t shirt. Probably wants ice cream. Won't wear a hat but also refuses to wear glasses. Walks around squinting at everything. Probably gets a sun burn on his face or on the back of his shoulders/neck.

Beelzebub isn't bothered by high heat. He cooks a lot so he's used to it. But for extended periods? Nope. He becomes sleepy in warm weather. Dresses reasonable and probably reminds you to put on sunscreen every hour or so. He's terrified you'll get a sunburn, he's worried because you're human and you won't recover from sunburns as fast as he will.

Belphegor is a hermit, so he probably doesn't really think about weather. Warm weather is a bonus to him as he can nap outside and be warm, but cold weather is also a win to him as he can stay inside and cuddle under blankets. Still wears a hoodie outside, likes to be reallyyy warm.

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dribs-and-drabbles · 9 months

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Get to know me ask game

Thanks for the tag @colourme-feral @telomeke @wen-kexing-apologist and @waitmyturtles (and sorry it took so long for me to get round to it!)

RULES: bold the ones that are true & tag 10 people to do it.

APPEARANCE

blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair (previously, yes, not right now) // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile (my rbf is a worried scowl, so I have to remember not to frown and to smile instead) // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES & TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic (I dance) // I know more than one language (English & Swedish) // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition (in gymnastics or dance when I was a kid) // I can cook or bake without a recipe (cook, not bake) // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks (not every break, but yes) // I can do a handstand (quite well actually)

RELATIONSHIP

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends (if they ask for it) // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell (probably at some point but a long time ago) // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days (normally, just not this summer since it's done nothing but rain) // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep (not all the time but it helps if I can't get to sleep - the trick is to queue 4/5 songs and let your mind focus on them, then when they finish and it goes silent you fall asleep) // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colours (moi?! 😂) // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend (without being a mum) // I live by a certain quote (focus on what you can control not on what you can't) // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities (this sounds very student-centric...which I am not...but does watching qls and writing about them on tumblr count?) // I enjoy Mexican food (but no guac for me - avocados make me sick) // I can drive a stick shift (we call it a 'manual' but yes I can, on both sides of the road) // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep (not all the time but I have done) // I sing in the shower (not loudly) // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

I presume most people have either done this or been tagged but I'll tag ten anyway just in case... @grapejuicegay @thegalwhorants @squeakygeeky @leconcombrerit @kattahj @benkaaoi @btwinlines @lurkingteapot @callipigio @vegasandhishedgehog

#get to know me ask game #that tag game

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astrodrveams · 9 months

Text

Helping Hoof ( MLP Apple Jack and Twilight FanFic)

Apple Jack let out a soft sigh as she approached Twilight's door. She did two hard knocks, she was nervous for some reason. When the door swung open to reveal Twilight, she greeted her with a warm smile. "Hey there, Applejack! What can I help you with?" she asked with a smile.

Feeling a bit sheepish, Apple Jack placed her hat over her chest and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I could really use your help." Her embarrassment was evident, but Twilight's welcoming demeanor put her at ease.

"Oh!" Twilight exclaimed. " What do you need help with?" Blushing slightly, Apple Jack admitted, "Well, Big Mac is out sick, and we have a lot of trees to harvest. I could use an extra pair of hooves." Twilight smiled, " I will gladly help! Just wait a moment!" The unicorn ran back into the library again, leaving Apple Jack outside.

When Twilight returned, Apple Jack couldn't help but burst into laughter. Twilight was wearing an oversized sun hat with bits of sunscreen still visible, and a big bag packed to the brim with snacks, water, even a first aid kit! Twilight's cheeks felt warm, " I don't want to get burned! Do you know how bad the sun can be?"

Apple Jack wiped the tears from her eyes. " Sorry, I don't mean to laugh." Twilight smiled, " Maybe you need some sunscreen." She said, " It looks like you are starting to get sunburned," Apple Jack chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious about her exposed skin. "Well, I reckon I'm used to the sun's rays, but I appreciate the concern," she replied with a grateful smile. Twilight shook her head. “ That isn’t good!" She levitated a bottle of sunscreen and put a big glob on her hoof. “ You are out in the sun a lot, you need to take better care of yourself!” She started rubbing the sunscreen gently all over her face. Apple Jack laughed a little bit, “ Well, thanks Twi!” Twilight blushed a bit, “ No worries! Don’t want you getting sick or anything” She looked away from the orange pony, embarrassed for some reason.

"Now, shall we get to work? The orchard won't pick itself."

With Twilight's magic, the two ponies set out to harvest the apples from the abundant trees in Sweet Apple Acres. Apple Jack marveled at Twilight's skillful use of magic, carefully plucking apples from the branches without bruising them.

They worked together seamlessly, their movements synchronized as they laughed and chatted about anything and everything. Apple Jack discovered that beneath Twilight's scholarly exterior, there was a gentle and compassionate heart. Twilight, in turn, admired Apple Jack's strong work ethic and unwavering dedication to her family and farm.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the orchard, they took a break and sat beneath the shade of the apple trees. Twilight took a sip of water, she was very red and sweaty. Despite not doing much physical labor, she was still out of breath. Apple Jack laughed a bit, she thought it was kind of cute.

Sitting underneath the tree resting, they watched the stars start to twinkle in the evening sky, and the serenity of the moment enveloped them.

"Twilight, I gotta say, I'm mighty grateful for your help today," Apple Jack said, looking at the purple pony with admiration in her eyes. "You may be a princess and all, but you're just as down-to-earth as they come."

Twilight blushed, feeling touched by Apple Jack's compliment. "Thank you, AJ," she replied softly. "You know, spending time with you today made me realize how much I've been missing by staying in the castle all the time."

"Well, you're always welcome here, partner," Applejack said warmly. "Anytime you wanna escape the books, just come on over. We'll make sure you have a rootin' tootin' time!"

Twilight laughed, feeling a sense of belonging. " Well, I might just have to take you up on that." She giggled a bit, and Apple Jack couldn't help but feel her heartbeat a little faster, " must be from working," she thought to herself.

They sat there for a bit talking. When they ran out of things to talk about they just sat there watching the stars, enjoying each other's presence.

"Twilight," Apple Jack spoke softly, breaking the silence, "there's something I want to show you." She stood up and extended her hoof to the purple pony.

Curious, Twilight took her hoof and allowed Apple Jack to lead her through the orchard. They walked beneath the apple trees, the branches casting playful shadows on the ground. Soon, they reached a clearing, where forgotten pear trees and old apple trees met. There was one in the middle twisted together. Twilight's eyes widened, " Wow this is beautiful," she exclaimed.

AppleJack was happy, she didn't know why, but after today she knew she just had to show this to her. As they stood there, bathed in the soft moonlight, Apple Jack smiled at Twilight's reaction.

"It's my secret spot," she confessed. "I like to come here when I need some time alone, away from all the hustle and bustle of the farm. It's peaceful, and I feel like the trees here understand me."

Twilight gazed at the intertwined trees, feeling a sense of magic in the air. "I can see why," she said, her eyes filled with wonder. "It's like they have a story to tell, just like the stars above."

Apple Jack nodded, her heart fluttering with happiness that Twilight appreciated this place as much as she did.

"You know," she said, "I never really showed this to anyone before. But I feel like I can trust you with it, Twilight."

The princess smiled warmly at her. "Thank you for sharing this with me," she said softly. "It means a lot."

They sat down under the canopy of the entwined trees, their shoulders touching as they looked up at the night sky. Twilight leaned her head on Apple Jack's shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort and serenity she had never experienced before. Apple Jack's heart skipped a beat, feeling a rush of emotions she couldn't quite put into words.

Apple Jack turned to look at Twilight, her heart pounding in her chest. "You know," she said softly, "I've never met anyone quite like you, Twilight. You're smart, kind, and there's a certain magic about you that I can't quite explain."

Twilight blushed, feeling a mixture of shyness and joy. "And I've never met anyone quite like you either, Apple Jack," she admitted. "You're strong, independent, and you have this warmth about you that draws ponies in."

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, they both knew that something special was happening between them. It was as if fate had brought them together, two souls from different worlds, connected by an unexplainable bond.

As the night wore on, they continued to talk, laugh, and share their dreams under the enchanting embrace of the entwined trees.

#mlp #mlp g4 #twijack #twilight x apple jack #mlp fan fiction #fluff #mlp fluff #mlp twilight #mlp apple jack #mlp aj #my little pony

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Note

I want to join in the ranking fun so, if you feel like it: acotar characters on a hike?

17. Amren- DID NOT GO

16. Nesta- ALSO DID NOT GO

15- Mor- HIKE???? No thanks.

14.- Feyre- brings a giant pack of her art supplies, sets up in the first nice valley and begins to paint. Yes, paint. Just wants to capture the moment, to soak in the beauty of nature.

13. Rhys- brought a golf cart, wearing open-toed shoes. "What do you mean we're not golfing?" Ends up banned by park service for taking a golf cart up a protected trail, waits in parking lot doing wheelies

12. Tarquin- SO HUMID. Prefers a dry heat, will not stop talking about it. Wants to know if they're ever going to swim, bails early when he realizes the journey is just the walk. NO THANK YOU

11. Gwyn- Two miles max, did not wear adequate shoes. Brought a book tucked beneath her arm to identify plants and birds but forgot water. Identifies zero birds, gets 100 mosquito bites.

10. Jurian- Does not understand point of a hike. Declares the view is not even that good. VISIBLY sunburned a third of the way up, refuses to put on sunscreen. Constantly asking if they're there yet.

9. Helion- Definitely thought there would be more drinking involved. Goes in 70's style shorts so everyone knows how muscular his thighs are. Isn't there for the right reasons. Lots of passerby's distracted when he takes off his shirt. Everyone annoyed by his in person thirst trapping.

8. Azriel- athletic but this is not his preferred form of absorbing vitamin D. Teased the whole time about how much black he wore. Doesn't want to scuff brand new shoes, has one of those backpacks you can slurp water from with a straw, refuses to share.

7. Vassa- Came with the hopes everyone was camping. Hiking with an ARSENAL of gear on her back. Exhausted half way through and FURIOUS when she realizes everyone is done at mile five

6. Emerie- Hiking goddess. Came to snap pictures and she looks good doing it. Long leggings and socks despite heat, does not seem to notice. Carrying on conversation despite ninety degree incline.

5. Eris- brought ALL his dogs. Tangled leashes EVERYWHERE. People constantly asking to pet, of course he says NO. DONT TOUCH THEM. Dogs desperately want to be pet. Carrying around way too many bags of dog poop, is grumpy about it. So worried about keeping dogs from escaping, forgets sunscreen.

4. Elain- Points out all the plants along the way, taking pictures carefully to catalogue. WAY at the back of the group, constantly having to jog to catch up. Came to soak up nature, not to get so sweaty. Wore a too floppy hat she loses in the wind at the very top, forced to go back down without it.

3. Tamlin- Wants to hike in SILENCE. Brought headphones, defeating the purpose of a group hike. So loud EVERYONE can hear. "Is that Call Me Maybe?" Tamlin pretends he didn't hear.

2. Cassian- BRUTAL PACE. PRACTICALLY RUNNING. OH MY GOD WHAT IS YOUR RUSH??? The rush is to beat the crowd and to punish ourselves for our many crimes against God. Cassian avoids being murdered that day...but just barely.

1. Lucien- Off grid hiking, tracking through woods like a bloodhound. Group? What group? They find him halfway back lounging against a tree looking unbothered. Made it to the top hours ago, just waiting now. There is a shortcut, he claims, pointing to vertical incline nicknamed "SUICIDE CLIMB" Looks like it needs equipment to get up, he claims he used his hands. Perfect ponytail.

#once again #this is objectively correct #as always i have the only right opinion on these characters and how they would behave on a hike #you know im right

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cricketnationrise · 2 years

Note

Ransom and Holster, December 31, House 2.0

Here you go! I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing this one <3

_X_ _X_ _X_

Haus 2.0, Dec. 31

11:34pm

Holster wanders around the party, smugly satisfied at the sight of all his friends, his family, enjoying themselves. It’s the first time he and Ransom have had a chance to really throw a party since moving to Boston, and fuck, Holster has missed this.

Jack and Bitty, safely out to the rest of their friends, are curled together leaning against the wall. Bitty’s talking animatedly, his hands flying, cup in frequent danger of spilling – and Jack is just smiling softly down at him, heart eyes probably visible from space. Holster snorts to himself, the Jack he met his freshman year could literally never (this Jack is better all around).

11:39pm

Shitty’s so proud watching Lardo dominate the pong table that Holster can almost feel it on his skin, an almost-sunburn of contentment (and a little smugness) in his partner. Lardo, champion that she is, manages to both completely obliterate her current challenger and keep half her attention on Shitty. Every time their eyes meet, Holster can see her small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. He doesn’t miss it though, and he’d bet next month’s beer money that Shitty doesn’t either.

11:46pm

A loud voice pulls his attention away from the pong table and toward the stairwell, and he can feel himself rolling his eyes preemptively as he recognizes Dex’s strident tones. He can’t read lips, but Holster can read body language, and if Nursey isn’t riling his d-partner up on purpose, Holster will eat his hat. (Okay probably not, but he’ll think of something equally as dramatic.)

Chowder and his girlfriend are standing next to the pair, matching smirks on their faces as they watch Dex and Nursey. Dex might not have noticed that he gravitates toward Nursey like a magnet, like a flower to the sunlight, like a moth to a flame (wow, Holster has clearly had enough to drink if he’s being all metaphorical in his own head) – but Chowder and Farmer certainly have.

If the relaxed set of Nursey’s shoulders, the mischievous light in his eyes, and his challengingly raised eyebrow are anything to go by, Nursey, at least, has figured out his own feelings. Nursey lets out a bark of laughter that has Dex letting out an inarticulate groan for frustration. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks to the side. Holster feels his own breath catch at the pleased, almost shy look on the normally stoic redhead. Maybe not so clueless after all, then.

11:53pm

Foxtrot is sitting on Tango’s shoulders. Holster blinks at the sight – he’s not used to seeing the diminutive manager at his own eye level. Tango’s holding her thighs to keep her steady, but is so relaxed he might as well be wearing a scarf instead of a human. It’s like he put her up there for safekeeping. Holster catches her eye, tilts his head to the side quizzically. She grins sheepishly, a little drunk, and mouths I wanted to be tall! Holster just shakes his head. Fucking Tadpoles.

Whiskey joins them a moment later, expertly holding three drinks, and passes them over, keeping the bottle of water for himself. Holster watches him stand up on a nearby chair so he can talk to Ford, the slight crease of his forehead betraying his worry. Whatever she says must reassure him because he hops down to sling an arm around Tango’s waist, pulls him (and by extension, Ford) as close as possible. Holster can’t resist surreptitiously taking a picture – he wants proof for later of the spectacularly closed off Whiskey acting like a college kid instead of middle-aged accountant.

11:59pm

People are pairing off if they weren’t already, preparing for midnight. Jack and Bitty have disappeared to the kitchen (of fucking course); Lardo has wrapped up her game handily and is tugging Shitty closer by the beltloops of his shorts; Chowder and Farmer are already making out, unwilling to wait for the countdown, apparently; Dex and Nursey have vanished, but Holster can see the shape of two guys sitting on the front stoop, heads close together, through the steamed up storm door; and Ford is on her own feet again, snuggled between the two taller Tadpoles.

Holster looks around in confusion. It’s not that big a house, despite how many people are packed into it right now, he should have been able to find Ransom by now. He’s resorting to pushing up on his fucking tiptoes like he isn’t the tallest person in the room—

Arms slip around his waist from behind, a chin rests on his shoulder, the scent of cedar and lemons and sweat wafting around him, and Holster relaxes at once.

Ransom.

He turns slightly in his boyfriend’s arms, enough to meet his eyes with a soft smile. Ransom beams back before letting their foreheads rest together. Hazily, Holster registers the sounds of the party chanting the countdown around him, but he doesn’t join in, doesn’t look away from the man holding him, can’t break their gaze for anything.

Ransom closes his eyes and leans in; Holster meets him halfway, just like they’ve always done, on the same page once again.

12:00am

_X_ _X_ _X_

get your own ficlet details here!

#cricket writes #ficlet fest #omgcp #check please #date stamp #holster #smh #haus 2.0 #new year's eve #holsom are the only ones i trust to throw a GOOD new year's eve party #pity they are LINES

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nat-tea-n-coffee · 2 years

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Tips on Surviving Tripple Digit Heat Waves

By A South Florida Local

1. DRINK WATER

I know everyone else says this already, but it bears repeating, DRINK WATER. No, more than that. Get an insulated water bottle, a straw if that’s your fancy, and keep that full and on you at all times. (I like to throw some fruity type herbal tea into the bottle for flavor). Try to have fruits and vegetables that have lots of water, and don’t worry too much about avoiding salt because you do need some for those electrolytes.

2. Shade and airflow are your new best friends because...

Channel your inner little ole lady and avoid sunlight like a vampire. Umbrellas will often double as great parasols. Hats with wide brims are excellent AND fashionable. If you’re going to carry around a hand fan (which I super recomment, the bigger the better) make sure to only fan yourself languidly, lest your overwork yourself and just increase the overall heat in your body. Beach umbrellas are not just for the beach, they work fine in a back yard or park too. If you’re feeling crafty you can probably rig up some awnings to extend shade over your windows. Remember that shade kinda works cumulatively, the more you have, the less time the air is in the sun, the longer it has to cool before getting to you.

3. Eat light, avoid heavy, rich foods.

Try to eat lighter foods that have more water in them like fruits and veggies. Cucumbers are especially good because they’re basically 70% water, 20% fiber, 10% electrolyte. Stuff like red meat, red wine, high fats foods, anything that would give you gout pretty much, puts a toll on your digestive system and works to warm you up. Now is the time to find out what all the hype around gazpacho is about. What the hell is an acai bowl? Refreshing is what it is. Go patronize your local thai restaurant, they know how to make food appropriate to this weather.

** Extra tip! Take you favorite juice, or tea, or whatever, put it in a mold or a cup with a stick in it throw it in the freezer, boom, cheap, low sugar popsicles. Keeps the little ones entertained, and if you make it with some chicken broth you can give it to the pups.

4. Dress in LOOSE, LIGHT, and NATURAL clothes.

Think of how the native folks of naturally hot and humid climates tend to dress. Big Native american Ribbon Skirts and Poofy blouses, the loose baggy pants of a salwar kameez, the incredible volume and colors of a hatian quadrille. Contrary to instinct, you actually want longsleeves in sunny weather to keep the deadly UV rays off your skin. Layers should be minimal though, and as little polyester as you can manage. Linen is best with cotton being the next best. Silk and leather are horrible and will basically turn you into a human green house. (I know a lot about wool in theory but little in practice. Probably still a good option if you’re out by the water). Avoid dark colors as they absorb a lot more heat that they will then keep directly across your skin (ouch). If you’re a goth who only dresses in black wool, go get a nice-ish cotton/linen bed sheet, and go to this link and help bring the ancient greek chiton back into style. Once you’re done with it you can still use it as a bed sheet.

5. External Water.

if you can get off to the coast for a bit, I would recommend it. Coastal areas tend to have the sea breeze, and the ocean is good at absorbing heat, plus being able to submerge yourself in water will help you cool off. If you can’t get to a beach, a little tub of water just enough to dip your feet into will go a long way. And as many people other than me have already pointed out, a wet towel across the back of the neck can work wonders.

6. Bonus Bits

- As obvious as drink water, but wear sunscreen. You can sunburn bad enough to give yourself a fever, this is especially true with CHILDREN.

- Speaking of children and any other smol creatures in your care, DOUBLE EVERYTHING ABOVE. They are tiny and so everything happens to them MORE. See #3 for popsicle ideas.

- Avoid energy drinks, if iced coffee or extra strong tea won’t get you through the day then it’s not worth the kidney damage.

-outside is not your enemy if your house is built like an oven. remember, you need SHADE and a BREEZE. If you don’t have your own, store bought is fine.

-libraries and museums tend to be temperature controlled. support your local institutions

- avoid being outside/in the sun during the hottest part of the day (normally 3-5ish), and if you’re going to be out and about, night time is best.

- Keep your hair off your neck, just trust me.

#Heat wave #european heatwave #heat wave tips #signal boost #tripple digit heat wave

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g0ttal0ve101 · 2 years

Text

Vacation Headcanons

(Because I’m excited for mine!! It’s in two weeks!! 💃)

Adrien

“Four…shit. WHERE’S THE FIFTH CHILD?!”

Literally got roped into this by Thomas.

^ The babysitter for orphaned children, basically.

Paying for everything but thinks nothing of it because he’s rich asf.

Thinks of the children not by their names, but by numbers. That way he doesn’t mix them up and look like an idiot. 🧠

Worried sick about Thomas all the damn time.

Wears tacky dad shirts and shit. (See ex) #1 dad 😍

Has no idea what’s going on 98% of the time.

^ But no one knows this.

Tries to be so cool around the kids only to embarrass Thomas instantly. 😭 (help him please)

“Alright, cool cats, let’s get outta here!”

“…Fuck, dad…”

“MADIWMEWKENRHWKMRNEJWNEHE”

“BAHAHAHAHHSHSHSHJSNENEJEJ”

“Meow!!!”

Also he’s terrified of Lucian what

Scarlet

“This is a time to bond together!!”

Packed just the right stuff.

Second babysitter of the group.

^ But terrible at it seeing she just falls asleep on a beach towel for the majority of the time.

Doesn’t swim because she’s too good for that, yet looks the best in a bathing suit…

Sorts out all the issues that occur between the group-*cough cough* Thomas and Lucian.

“What happened, why are you crying? *GASP* He threw a fish at you? I will talk to him straight away, but first! Let’s get you cleaned up and get some ice cream, okay?”

Their mom.

Tries to get everyone to have bonding time together by fun activities around (arcades, the beach, an amusement park, etc.) but it almost always falls into chaos.

Deadass gets hit by waves as she’s sleeping then be like: “It’s a sign from God 😨” Bestie what 😭

Evelyn

“IS THAT A CRAB?!” *pointing at a rock*

OVERPACKED EVERYTHING.

^ Beach dresses, causal dresses, formal dresses, baddie dresses, beach shoes, causal shoes, formal shoes, baddie shoes, beach hat, causal hat, formal hat, baddie hat, 8 bathing suits, 78 sunscreen bottles, 90 towels, 62 sand toys (for lulu), 27 bug spray protection, 19 sunglasses-the list goes on.

Should not, cannot, will not go in the water at all. All she can see is those little children in the ocean…definitely getting away with peeing in there 😭

Self conscious about the way she looks in her Bikini…😢

Hates the sand, stands on top of the cooler.

Complains to Adrien the majority of the time and becomes besties with him because they are both clean freaks.

HATES any sort of beach creature. Fish, crabs, seagulls, you name it, she hates it. Literally sprays her bug spray at anything that she doesn’t like. 😭

“Is that a crab?”

“Yea-!”

*SPRAYS IT WITH BUG SPRAY*

“BRUH-”

Sam

“Seashells for e-everyone…!”

Poor boy probably under packs because he’s so anxious about being annoying. 🥺

Holds hands with Lulu the majority of the time, considering he’s so outgoing and he’s so nervous.

“So many people…”

“It’s okay! We’re almost to the beach, you see?”

“Mhm…”

Wears cute bathing suit trunks and a t-shirt to swim with because he’s a precious boy.

Does not sunburn. He just gets tanner no matter what-

Surprisingly good at swimming. He likes doing little flips under the water.

Collects seashells and makes them into necklaces for everyone because he’s just that sweet.

Hopes a shark comes and bites the fuck out of Thomas.

Lucian

“Let’s go to the beach beach! Nicki Minaj…”

Overpacks, but with nothing he needs.

^ Brings coloring books, stuffed animals, toys, but not basic stuff like shoes?? 😭

^^ So he has to share stuff with Thomas and Sam…it’s not good.

Loves the sand, loves the water, hates the fish. If he sees a fish he’s going to flip. the. fuck. out.

Makes crappy sandcastles but he’s trying his best. 🥺 (they’re just piles of sand with sticks and stuff)

Cannot swim for the life of him, so stays on the shallow end. At least, until Thomas pulls him out into the deepest part he can go. Then he’s just stuck on Thomas’s shoulders crying 😭

“LET ME GOOOOO GO BACKKKKK”

“You wanna go further?!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

He wears similar things as Sam, as he’s really anxious about showing lots of skin. It was a struggle just getting him in a swimming suit that showed under his knees…he’s really weary about anything like that.

Thomas

“Yooooooooo shark week looking real good today.”

Under packs himself, but his dad has him covered and overpacks everything.

Tries to look cool in front of all the girls/boys by a nice pair of sunglasses and his swimming trunks…what he forgets is that he has -10000 muscles so he looks like a shrimp…

Pulled the stunt where he pretends he’s drowning so Scarlet would save him, but his dad came instead. I’m crying sobbing tearing up.

Catches fish to show Lucian and very much THROW THEM ON HIM.

^ Or just says he sees a fish and makes him flip the hell out.

Constantly has his dad on top of him checking his heart rate.

Drags Sam under water by grabbing his ankles and flinging him. (Don’t do this guys.)

When he wants Charlie’s attention, he’ll give him a dead serious look and say, “I see a shark.” Then, next thing you know, Charlie is on top of him screaming his heart out. 😭

“Baby…”

“What.”

“I don’t want to scare you but…I think I just saw a shark.”

“WHAAAAAAAATTTTTT”

#oc: lucian williams #oc: scarlet ophelia #oc: sam vega #oc: evelyn anderson #oc: thomas hall #the hall case #the williams case #the hall family #the vega case #the anderson case #the ophelia case #oc: charlie allen

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whelvenwings · 3 years

Text

Castiel's grace is missing, and Dean's frustrated - instead of looking for it, all Castiel wants to do is grow his flowers. Eventually, the two of them have to talk about it.

Read it below or here on AO3! Tags: Canon Divergent, Gardener!Cas, Cas' Grace

This fic was inspired by this wonderful art by saminzat, and written as part of the @spnreverse-promptchallenge!

It’s not Heaven. It’s not even close. It’s just a garden, where Castiel is growing things.

If it were Heaven, Castiel thinks, then Dean would be looking a lot happier, those wrinkles around his eyes all eased away. If it were Heaven, there would have been a break in the clouds overhead when Dean arrived.

If it were Heaven, the peach rose would be in bloom, not straggling all green and leggy and ungainly through the picket fence that Castiel had put up to help it grow.

Castiel puts down the secateurs he’s been using to prune the forsythia, and takes off his gardening gloves. He walks over to Dean, acutely aware of the fact that he’s wearing enough sunscreen to make his skin shine, the worn-thin, oversized blue t-shirt he found at a Goodwill that says Thyme to Garden, and a very large sunhat to protect the back of his neck.

Sunburn, he reminds himself, is more uncomfortable than the growing look of mixed amusement and judgement in Dean’s eyes. Even on a cloudy day, his skin will burn if he’s outside for a long time. Something he learned the hard way after becoming human.

“I thought you were researching a case,” Castiel says to Dean as he approaches.

“Done. Thought I’d come say hi.” Dean raises an eyebrow and a half-smile at him in greeting. “So, hi.”

Castiel stops a few feet from him and tips his hat a little further back on his head, so that Dean can clearly see his face.

“Hello,” he says. Dean takes in the hat, the t-shirt, the full gardening ensemble, with one sweeping gaze.

“Looking good,” Dean says.

Castiel looks down at himself, and then solemnly back to Dean.

“Thank you,” he says, with just enough irony in his tone to get Dean to smile. Or it would have been, usually, but today Dean’s expression is sinking back into hard lines. The greyish, muted light seems to lie heavy on him, putting a coldness in his eyes.

Castiel searches his face. Just as he’s about to say something more, Dean breaks their stare, glancing around at the plants nearest him as a light breeze ruffles at them.

“They’ve grown since last time you showed me,” Dean says. He’s holding himself strangely, his fists clenched. Castiel tilts his head to one side, and then looks around with Dean at the garden.

He feels the familiar spark of happiness as he surveys his handiwork. Once, the place had been a sad little patch of chalky, lump-filled earth. Now the flowers drip off their stems like dewdrops, and the soil smells rich, and the leaves tremble their creaky little paths to follow the sun each day. Even the blossomless peach rose has strong roots.

Castiel glances back to Dean, and feels the warmth in his chest sputter out. Dean’s eyeing the plantlife with an expression that doesn’t seem impressed.

“It’s been a while since last time,” Castiel says.

“Yeah. Well, you know.” Dean looks distracted, frowning down at a squat little succulent plant. There’s something bothering him, obviously, and Castiel isn’t sure whether Dean wants to be asked about it or have it be left alone.

“You’re always welcome,” Castiel tries quietly. Dean seems to catch himself, shifting his expression to something more neutral as he turns back to Castiel.

“Yeah,” he says, not as though he particularly believes it, and – in a way that almost manages to seem genuine – not as though he particularly cares.

“You can stay,” Castiel says. “If you want. There’s plenty to do. If you’re not busy.”

Dean puts his hands into his pockets and looks around the garden again, this time with his eyes a little less sharp.

“Nah,” he says. “Nah, I don’t wanna spoil the fun.”

Spoil the fun? Castiel gives Dean a look that he hopes is eloquent, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“I dunno, man,” he says. “Anyway, it’s not really me, is it.”

He looks tired, Castiel thinks.

“Didn’t think it was you, either,” Dean adds after a half-beat. He reaches up unselfconsciously, and then seems to realise what he’s doing at the last moment, and awkwardly flicks the brim of Castiel’s hat with the back of one finger before taking a step away. “Didn’t think you’d ever go in for… you know. Whatever this is.”

Castiel can easily read that expression on Dean’s face. He’s seen it before, in other times, other places. The mixture of bravado and hurt and confusion had made sense when lives had been at stake and grand lies had been unfolding, but this – here, today, in among his roses and sunflowers, Castiel hadn’t expected it. Dean looks betrayed.

And Castiel doesn’t know what to say. He reaches up to his hat, just brushing the brim with the tips of his fingers in the same place Dean touched it.

“I need the hat,” he says. “To keep the sun off my neck.”

“Right,” Dean says. “Yeah.” He looks up at the sky, which is still an overcast grey.

“Even through clouds,” Castiel offers.

“Uh huh. Okay.”

Castiel squints at him.

“You seem angry,” he says. No more dancing around it. Predictably, Dean makes a face, as though the suggestion were ridiculous.

“Nah.”

“Dean.” Castiel fixes him with a look, and Dean shrugs.

“Whatever, man.”

“If something is wrong…” Castiel says.

“Listen, if coming out here and growing your little flowers and everything helps, then that’s fine,” he says. “It’s fine.”

There’s a but coming, and Castiel knows enough to wait for it. Dean looks aimlessly around at the burgeoning plants. His eyes trace the tangle of a buddleia, until he glances back to Castiel, who raises an eyebrow.

Dean’s front drops, the stiffness going out of his shoulders, his hands unclenching.

“But your grace, man,” he says. Castiel looks down at the ground. He should have expected this, he knew. But somehow hearing the words still takes him by surprise.

“What about it,” he says, in a tone that doesn’t really want an answer, but knows it’s going to get one.

Dean’s hands come up, palms facing out, asking a question without words at first.

“Seriously,” he manages after a moment. “What about it? It’s your grace, Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel says.

“It’s gone,” Dean says.

“I know.”

“It’s been months.”

“I…” Castiel sighs. “Yes.”

“You told me it was just gone,” Dean says, ducking his chin slightly to catch Castiel’s eyes. “Like it was no big deal. And now all you do is spend time up here, planting flowers. Not even trying to look for it. I don’t get it, man. And whenever I try to bring it up, you just say –”

“It’s taken care of,” Castiel says, at the same time as Dean mouths the words along with him, his expression exasperated with a spiderweb of hurt threaded through.

“It’s your grace.”

“I know,” Castiel says. “I know it is. But it’s taken care of, Dean. I don’t want…”

He cuts himself off before he says too much, pressing his lips together.

Dean shakes his head. Castiel can see him battling with himself, trying to decide whether he wants to push harder. Castiel keeps his face neutral, hoping Dean will drop it.

“Don’t want what?” Dean says, though, and Castiel feels his heart sink. “You’re human, now. And you’re stuck that way until you get your grace back, but you won’t even…” Dean seems to run out of words. Castiel tries to think of something to say to divert the conversation, take them down a different track.

“I’m doing better at shaving,” he says. “And I’ve learned not to brush my teeth before drinking orange juice.”

Castiel can see the slight smile on Dean’s face, but it’s almost completely buried under the worry and the anger.

“Right,” Dean says.

“Dean…”

“I just don’t get it. The grace… if it’s lost, I can help with that. If it’s destroyed, I can try to help too, or… we’ll figure something out. Or if it’s safe, why won’t you tell me what happened with it?” The strain in Dean’s voice tells Castiel that they’re at the heart of it now, at the reason for the tight shoulders and the clipped answers and the judgemental eyes on his catmint and cosmos. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

Castiel stares at him helplessly. The answers are in the back of his throat, ready to be said, but he can’t open his mouth – can’t get them out. He feels his heart thudding, his human heart. He doesn’t know if he likes that feeling, if he wants it – perhaps not, no more than he wants sunburn, or the taste of orange juice after toothpaste, or blood on his palms when he catches himself on that peach rose’s thorns.

But there’s something he does want. And any chance at – at that – any chance at all, it’s worth the weight of being human. He made a choice and he knows he’d make it, the same one, over and over again.

He thinks it all, but he can’t say it. Dean watches him, angry and confused. Overhead, the clouds lumber their heavy bellies across the sky.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Dean says. Castiel looks away, and Dean takes a step closer. “Cas,” he says. “I swear to god.”

Castiel looks up at him, knowing his own tiredness is right there to be seen on his face – and his sadness, his hurt. Dean’s expression shifts, and he comes even closer.

“What did you do, man? Is it that bad?”

It’s easy to see Dean’s mind working, trying to piece everything together. He’s probably thinking demons, and deals, and treachery, all the things that they’ve been through before. Castiel doesn’t know how to explain to him that he’s wrong without telling him the whole truth. And he can’t tell the whole truth.

“Look,” Dean says, “we’ll figure it out. If you just tell me – tell me where it is, or what happened. Did someone do this? And what… what does all of this have to do with it…” He looks around again at the garden. Castiel closes his eyes for a second, lets the familiar feeling of being here fill him as much as he can let it – the warmth in his chest, the spark.

He knows he should try to talk about it, but he can’t. He can’t.

When he opens his eyes, Dean’s waiting, watching him. Castiel opens his mouth – but nothing comes out.

Dean’s face tightens again.

“Okay,” he says. “So it’s like that. Great, Cas.”

“Dean, it’s –”

“No, it’s fine,” Dean says, his tone taut with bitterness, but his face carefully unbothered. “That’s fine. Deal with it by yourself. That’s always gone so well. And meanwhile, me, I’ll just, what? Wait for you to give me the bad news, I guess. That’s great, Cas. Really. You know, you –”

“Stop,” Castiel asks.

And a little of the fight leaves Dean again. He looks as though he wants to say something else, but doesn’t know what. His face is half apology and half anger.

“It just…” he says. And then waves his hand, like it doesn’t matter anyway.

And it’s the simplicity of the hurt in that gesture that has Castiel throwing all his caution to the wind and saying,

“I don’t want it back.”

Dean stops moving. His eyes fix on Castiel.

“What?” Dean asks.

Castiel’s jaw is tight, but he manages to say again,

“I don’t want it back. My grace. I know where it is. But I don’t want it back.”

All of Dean’s carefully placed anger is gone, suddenly, in his shock. There’s no performance, no strategy, in the way that he steps closer and looks utterly bewildered.

“You don’t?” he says.

“No. I…” Castiel hesitates, and then says, “I took it out myself.”

“You what?”

Castiel lifts one shoulder, a little diffidently. It had been necessary, so he’d done it. As simple as that.

“Cas,” Dean says, and then seems to be at a loss. Castiel doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say, so far as he can see.

He’s made his choice. And if he ever regrets it, if he ever wishes things could be different, all he has to do is look at Dean and it pales to nothing.

“Cas… why?” Dean manages eventually, and Castiel breathes out.

He looks at Dean.

Dean stares right back at him, not understanding.

“Did someone make you?” Dean demands. “We can go and look for them, we can –”

“No,” Castiel says. “No. I chose to do it.”

“But Cas…”

“It’s –” Castiel presses his lips together again, trying not to let the expression look pained, even though there’s a flash of hurt through his chest at the thought of trying to say any of it aloud. Saying it would push the two of them, Dean and Castiel, towards a tipping point. A no-takebacks, no room for misunderstanding point. Sharp as a thorn.

And it’s the last thing Castiel wants.

Until they talk about it, anything seems possible. It almost feels real enough. But if they talk, it’ll all be over. Dean will tell him to take back his grace, and Castiel will have to leave. It’ll be over.

“You took it out. What would you do that for,” Dean says. When Castiel doesn’t reply, he reaches out and puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, the word harsh enough to compensate for the touch.

“It’s nothing,” Castiel says.

“Cas.”

“Really, it’s…” Castiel stops. The denial dies in his mouth. He swallows, his eyes on Dean, before he looked down. “I just want to be able to stay with you.”

The last two words are too much – all of it is too much – but they’re out his mouth before he can stop them. Castiel breathes out and waits to feel Dean’s hand loosen its grip, drop away in shock at the unwanted intensity. It’s too much. Castiel knows it’s too much.

But Dean’s hand is still on his shoulder.

“You want to be able to stay?” Dean says.

“Yes.” Castiel says it bluntly, to try to shave off the emotion, make it easier to talk about. Dean’s hand still doesn’t move. Castiel can feel each place Dean’s fingers are digging in slightly through the thin material of his t-shirt. His heart is pounding and he wants to be able to turn it off, quiet it down, hear Dean’s heart instead in the way he could when he had his grace. He wants it with a sudden acuteness, a pang of loss.

“But – you can,” Dean says. “Why would you think you needed to do this?”

Castiel can’t look back up at him.

“Cas,” Dean says.

There’s a band of pain squeezing tightly around Castiel’s chest. He can’t quite seem to get his breath, suddenly.

“I just thought I’d fit better this way,” he says.

“Fit better?” Now Dean moves his hand, pulls back, though he doesn’t go far. “What do you mean?”

“You’re human,” Castiel says. He looks up, meets Dean’s eyes. “Now I am too. I thought, maybe…”

He trails off. He can’t say more. He can’t talk about what he hopes for, what he wants. He can’t.

Dean’s hand is back on his shoulder and the touch is different, now, less insistent. Softer. Castiel can see the gentleness in Dean’s eyes, shy and uncertain, allowed to show just for a few moments.

“We don’t have to be the same,” Dean says.

Castiel doesn’t know how to answer.

“We’ve never been the same,” Dean says. “But we’re still good. Right?”

There are no words in Castiel’s mind, or none that make sense – or none that he can say aloud. He wishes he could give Dean the way that he feels, just drop it into Dean’s mind, show him without having to explain it. The feeling is yes, good, of course we’re good, but there’s more – there’s different things, things I want to be to you, ways I want to be with you. And not telling you feels more and more like lying with every passing day but I don’t know how to tell you without you being suddenly aware that I’ve been wanting you in a different way to how you want me for a very long time, and will you hate me for that? Will you think I’m a liar? Will you send me away? Could I bear that? Could I bear it? If you hated me, how could I bear it?

“I just,” Castiel says, “I just want to be able to stay.” It’s the only part of it that will come out of his mouth.

“You can,” Dean says. “You don’t need… damnit, Cas, you didn’t have to take your own grace out just to be able to stay.”

Castiel nods mutely. Dean’s hand squeezes Castiel’s shoulder.

“So you can put it back, right?” he says. “The grace. You can go get it and put it back?”

“I could.” It comes out more direct and harsh than Castiel intended, and Dean’s grip tightens.

“So…?” he says.

Castiel can’t meet his eyes. He looks to the side, around the garden that he’s created. The flowers that have unfurled for him, trusting, unfussy about what deep love and secrets he’s hiding. The leaves and shoots that grow steadily under the care of his hands, no matter who else those hands wish they could hold.

“Cas,” Dean says again, and gives another squeeze, and then lets go. “Your grace is you, man. All these months, it’s not like you’ve had a good time being human, is it?”

“It’s worth it.”

“Worth it?” Dean echoes.

“If it means we’re the same,” Castiel says. And his reasoning isn’t even clear to Castiel himself, now. It just feels as though if they’re both human, if they both are the same thing, there’s a chance they could both feel the same way, too – it makes no sense, and yet Castiel can’t imagine letting go of the thought.

“We don’t need to be the same,” Dean says, repeating himself with a look that’s crossed between confusion and concern.

“But I…”

Castiel stops talking, cuts himself off. Dean’s eyes search his face.

“You want to be?” Dean says, cautious, hazarding a guess. And when Castiel’s expression tells Dean he’s right, his face goes even more soft with surprise. “Why?”

There isn’t anything that Castiel can say in answer. No explanations he can give that will make sense outside his own mind. All he finds himself doing is looking at Dean – looking at him more openly than he has done in a long time, half tight-lipped and wanting the conversation to end, half hoping that Dean will finally piece it all together. He allows himself to stare, frankly and directly, pushing away the guilt and shame that push at him and tell him to look down, step away, move back, leave. He stares like he once used to all the time, letting down the walls.

There’s Dean, he thinks. There he is. Sometimes the feelings in Castiel grow so big and overwhelming that he forgets the shape of the man at the heart of them. The way Dean cares. The way Dean looks at him right back, matches him – when it comes down to it, never pretends it doesn’t matter to him when it does.

Dean’s mouth opens to form words, but he seems to stop himself. Castiel watches Dean swallow, and feels the familiar swoop and ache in his chest as all his crushing sky-sized love focuses into the smallness of the place on Dean’s throat that he wants to touch.

Dean goes to say something, and then stops.

Castiel looks down at Dean’s lips, and then back up again.

Is it wrong, how much he wants to kiss Dean? The feeling is pressing, immediate, alive. It’s in Castiel’s blood, in his bones. If Dean doesn’t want him too, in the same way, does that make the feeling wrong? Or would it just be acting on it, making Dean aware of it, that would be wrong? But the feeling is a background hum in everything Castiel does. He acts on it even when Dean isn’t with him. He acts on it all the time.

Every passing moment changes the gaze between them. Dean’s waiting for him to talk, not filling in the space with any words this time, but his face keeps sinking further into something that looks dangerously like realisation.

“I don’t know,” Castiel says. If how he feels, or what he’s doing, is wrong, then he should look away. He should go away, leave Dean alone, find somewhere else to be. But he couldn’t, he can’t, not until he knows for sure that Dean doesn’t feel even slightly the same way – and he can’t ask, because as soon as he knows Dean doesn’t feel the same way, he’ll have to leave. The thoughts chase their tails in Castiel’s head and he stares and he stares at Dean and he hurts so much that he wants to hit his own chest just for the distraction of a simpler pain.

“You don’t know what?”

“I just don’t know, Dean.”

Dean is watching him carefully, his mouth slightly open, as though trying to figure out how to phrase something he wants to say. There’s a slight tinge of colour to his cheeks, too, Castiel notices.

“Uh,” Dean says. His mouth shapes a ‘w’ like the start of a question, and then closes again, and he frowns – but he doesn’t look away.

He almost knows, Castiel thinks. He’s almost understood. And as soon as Dean understands, it’s over. Unless he feels the same way, which he doesn’t. He can’t. We’re not the same. No matter how hard I try and how much I change, we’re not ever the same.

He needs to cauterise this conversation like a wound, stop all this from happening, but he can’t find the words. Dean’s still watching him. Castiel’s heart is thunder in his head, drowning out his thoughts.

“You look like the whole world’s falling apart,” Dean says eventually. “Not an exaggeration. ‘Cause I’ve seen your face when the world was actually falling apart.” Dean points vaguely with one finger towards Castiel’s face. “And it looked like that.”

Castiel nods mutely, and Dean sighs and glances sharply away, and then back again.

“Come on, Cas, jesus. Something’s up, so whatever it is, just tell me.” He looks at Castiel for a long time, and then he says it again. In a different voice, quieter, with a little rise at the end as though of hope or something equally as stupid for Castiel to consider. “Tell me.”

It’s said in a way that makes Castiel want to believe he’s asking for all the things Castiel wants to give.

Dean’s eyes are wide, too. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s asking.

And Castiel’s human heart is pounding at that tone in his voice, that look on his face, because it feels as though – tentatively – they could be talking about the same thing. The longer Castiel watches Dean’s face, the more he sees it. There are the little flickers of denial, uncertainty, in the way Dean’s eyes narrow for a half-moment. And then there again is the rise of hope in the depth of Dean’s gaze, the openness.

It’s so small and barely-there that Castiel can’t trust it. He can’t know how this ends. It’s a rope thrown into down into his well, though, and with no idea what waits for him at the top, he still puts his hand on it and wonders if he’s strong enough to begin to climb.

“I, um.” He starts to speak, and his voice is low and rough. When he pauses almost immediately, Dean shifts his weight from one foot to the other, licks his lips. Castiel searches for the words. “I tried staking that peach rose. But it didn’t do any good.”

Dean looks confused. He doesn’t even bother to look down at the rose, just keeps his eyes on Castiel.

“What…” he says.

“It just grew that way,” Castiel says. He can feel a lump in his throat. “Naturally. It wanted to grow that way.”

“Okay,” Dean says, as though slightly concerned for Castiel’s sanity.

“I think sometimes it’s just like that,” Castiel says. He meets Dean’s eyes. “You can try planting them in the place you want them. Cut them back. Put a stake through them.” He resists the sudden, unexpected urge to reach up and touch the place on his chest where, years ago, Dean buried a knife in his heart. He swallows. “But sometimes there are things you can’t control. And even if it’s not… not healthy, or pretty, or the way it’s supposed to go… that’s how they’ll grow. Just towards the place they want to be.”

Dean’s listening intently, but his eyes are clouded with confusion. He looks like he wants to say something, and then stops himself. Castiel can’t blame him for not understanding, when half the point is that he’s talking without getting to the point. He doesn’t want to get to that sharp-split point when his life takes one of two courses, when Dean says one of two things.

“Dean, I…” Castiel says, and his hand reaches out. Unconsciously, awkwardly, the straggling limb of a plant that has never grown the way it should have done. And Castiel goes to catch himself, to stop letting his fingers trail through the air reaching for a place they can’t go – but then Dean takes his hand.

Dean takes his hand, and holds onto it. Not sweetly, not softly. Hard. Like they’re at the top of a cliff and Dean’s afraid of losing his grip and having to watch Castiel fall alone.

Castiel can barely breathe. Against the odds his hand is being held by Dean. Against the way that his words desert him, against the thousands of reasons that the two of them shouldn’t have ever even met, let alone be standing here together in a garden. Against all of it, Castiel’s hand is squeezed tight in Dean’s.

There’s a part of Castiel that’s trying to pinch itself, that’s shaking its head in denial, but Dean’s grip is warm and real.

“Cas,” Dean says. “Do you…”

The question has no ending, but it’s Dean, so the answer is yes. Castiel nods.

Dean’s expression seems, with just the smallest of looks in his eyes, to break apart. He holds onto Castiel’s hand and says nothing, doesn’t move.

“And…” Castiel says, but his throat goes dry. He can do this. He has to do this. If he doesn’t now, he never will. He tries again. “And… you?”

Dean looks momentarily bewildered.

“Yeah, Cas,” he says.

Castiel feels himself go light, so suddenly his stomach flips.

Yeah, Cas, he hears in his head. Yeah, Cas.

On another day, when Castiel hadn’t just told Dean how he feels through a series of oblique angles – when Castiel’s hand wasn’t still being held in the rough warmth of Dean’s – Castiel might have been indignant at that tone in Dean’s voice. As though it had been obvious, when yes, half the time Dean was staring at him like he actually mattered, was ready to die for him – but the rest of the time Dean couldn’t look at him, was ready to die for anything.

Their hands swing a little between them. Just their arm muscles getting a little tired, and their hands moving together. Such a very little thing to happen, Castiel thinks. So very small. After all this time it’s just one hand in another, and it means absolutely crushingly everything, in the way that he’d known it would.

It’s happening, he thinks. It’s happening. We’re the same. We’re the same.

A little clutch of fear that he might change, one day. Wake up and be something else, unexpectedly. Grow again, in a direction Dean doesn’t –

Castiel breathes. It’s alright. He’s torn out his grace for this. He can be the person Dean needs. He can change himself again. Over and over, if needs be.

He holds Dean’s hand. Tight. He can always change again. He can make them the same again. Whatever it takes. For this, for the feeling of Dean's hand in his, it would be worth it, anything would be worth it. But –

Dean’s grip goes slack in his own.

“Wait,” Dean says. “Wait. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Castiel says. He holds tighter. “Nothing.”

Dean’s hand drops Castiel’s. The loosening of his grip is a slow-motion whip crack across Castiel’s chest.

“No?” Dean says, looking at Castiel, asking with the single word whether Castiel doesn’t want anything that just happened. He puts his hands up just a little way, maybe a surrender, maybe just a gesture to show he isn’t touching.

“Wait,” Castiel says, his hand still in place, still reaching. It shows, then, he thinks to himself. That sickle-curve sharpness in his chest, the fear in him that he won’t always be able to fit himself to what Dean wants, it must show. Dean can see it. Castiel lifts his chin, tries to look as though he’s feeling incredibly happy, instead of just incredibly much. “Dean, why are you –”

“Cas…” Dean’s eyes are searching his face, looking for the place where something is wrong. Castiel wants to cut in, insist that nothing is wrong. Take Dean’s hand again, reach for more – he could reach for more, he thinks, and his heart twists, and his head feels light. He could reach for more. Dean might let him. Dean was holding his hand for a moment, there, by choice, as though it really meant something. Castiel’s mouth is dry.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel tries. But his stomach is sinking, even as he’s aching with the terrifying joy of the sudden opening of all the doors he’d always thought were closed for him.

Dean can see that he’s scared. Dean is going to figure it all out. And then those doors will close again.

“I mean…” Dean says. He blinks, shakes his head just slightly. Seems to remember where exactly he is, glancing around at Castiel’s garden. It’s all slipping out of Castiel’s grasp. They’re going to pretend as though the last two minutes never happened, Castiel can feel it.

It’s unbearable. It’s unbearable. The idea of having had it for barely a few seconds, and then losing it. Castiel reaches for words, for anything – something that will show Dean how much it all means to him, how far he’ll go to make it work.

“We’re both human,” he says, almost blurts. “I took out my grace. So we can be… so I can stay.”

Took out, he thinks to himself. What a clinical way to talk about the tearing, the self-destruction, the loss.

Dean just looks at him, mouth slightly open.

This is supposed to be the part where Dean argues, Castiel realises only when it doesn’t come. This is the part where Dean asks me what the hell I was thinking. Tells me to put the grace damn well back where it came from, and to stop making terrible decisions. And then I argue back, and tell him I’ll do what I want to do with my own grace, and I made this choice for him, and I’d do it again.

But Dean isn’t saying anything. He’s just staring. And Castiel stares, too. He can’t argue back when Dean hasn’t started the fight. He can’t push back if Dean never pushed forward. So they stand in silence. The clouds overhead roll on, oblivious to the hearts frantically pounding so far beneath them.

“Cas,” Dean says, and he says it differently to how he’s supposed to – quietly, carefully, handling the name like it’s made of something delicate. “I don’t know what you want me to say, man.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Castiel says.

“But you… you did that…”

Castiel watches him mutely.

“Why?” Dean asks.

So many answers. To be like you. To be near you. To show you I can change for you. Castiel opens his mouth and tries not to say too much.

“For – this,” Castiel says, managing to stop himself saying, for you.

“This?”

“This,” Castiel says, holding Dean’s gaze.

Dean holds his gaze.

“But it – ah. Jesus, Cas, this is hard to talk about.”

Castiel nods. He doesn’t want to let it go – feels sick at the idea of Dean just dropping the subject, and heading back inside, leaving the garden and forgetting all about what they’d said to each other. Chalking it up as somewhere he’d never go again. Too much baggage, too heavy, not worth it.

Dean puffs out his cheeks, though, and breathes out sharply, and says,

“It’s just that, hell, man, you never had to take the grace out to have… you know… anything you wanted out of me.” Dean looks uncertain as he says the last part, as though a little disbelieving that Castiel could want anything from him in particular. “You know that. Right?”

His voice is so different. So gentle in a way that Castiel only barely recognises from the most private of moments they’ve shared. Castiel is suddenly so intensely aware that they’re the only two in the garden, alone with each other. No one else to see them or hear them or judge what they say to each other. It’s a thought that gives him courage.

“I’ve changed for you since the beginning,” Castiel says. Dean opens his mouth, and then closes it, his eyes troubled. Castiel watches him, thinking. “Or –” he starts, as a new thought occurs to him. “Or, changed because of you, at least.”

Dean still looks confused, as though he doesn’t really see the difference. To Castiel, though, it feels clear as day. He changed because he met Dean – without that meeting, he would still be the angel he’d always been. But when he thought about it, the person he changed for was himself. Because it had felt right. Because it felt, period, and that was what he’d wanted.

It loops round and round perfectly in Castiel’s mind. Meeting Dean, the push Castiel needed to start running. And knowing Dean, now, the pull Castiel needs to keep changing, stay with him, stay together.

“I just thought,” Castiel says, when Dean stays silent, “if I could be human like you, then maybe you’d… maybe we could be the same. And stay that way.”

“And you want that,” Dean says.

“Yes.”

“Because…”

“Because,” Castiel says, a little taken aback, “I want… this.”

“But why’d we have to be the same for that? I mean – this?” Dean frowns, as though almost losing track of what he’s trying to say. They’re trying to talk all around it without using any words that are too big.

“Why…” Castiel trails off as he considers the question.

Dean shrugs, in a way that battles to look uncaring and ends up looking heartfelt.

“But… we need to be the same,” Castiel says. He wants them to be close like two leaves on a tree. Closer, two petals on a flower. No, closer still, not even two things. Just one, one plant, growing strong. He wants them that close, that inseparable, after so long being forced apart by fate and circumstance. No would-be gods or divine powers could set them apart if they were one thing. The same.

“But we aren’t the same, Cas,” Dean says, so quietly that Castiel only just hears it over the little burst of breeze that briefly ruffles over them.

Castiel feels his chest clench.

“I’m trying…” he says.

“No, I mean – I mean we can’t be,” Dean says. “I mean, we aren’t, ‘cause we’re… you know… two different people. There it is, you know? Different people. We can’t be exactly the same.”

“But…” Castiel starts, and the word comes out sounding almost angry, so he checks himself and looks down. “But,” he starts again, “if I can just…”

“C’mon,” Dean says, the smallest of smiles softening one side of his mouth. “You wouldn’t really want two of me running around the place, would you?”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Castiel answers, his voice serious, but with a lightness in his eyes to acknowledge Dean’s brush with humour.

“Come to think of it, though,” Dean says, “I’d get a lot more work done on the car if there were two of me. And we could harmonise on Zepp tracks. Maybe you are onto something.”

“Dean,” Castiel says, though he can feel his heart lifting just seeing Dean reaching out for him, trying to make him smile.

“I wouldn’t let you share my toothbrush, though, no way.” Dean looks around the garden. “And this would have to go. Hate to break it to you, but no way are you digging around in the dirt for hours if you’re me. Not unless there’s something to salt and burn at the end of it.”

“I know,” Castiel says, and the words sound little and obstinate, but his hands relax. Dean is looking at him like he gets it – like he sees that curling fear inside Castiel, the one that can’t let them be two different and separate things that just happen by the grace of luck to be next to each other. Because luck runs out, and they both know it. The only way to be sure of staying together, the fear says, is to be so much the same as to be one thing.

But it’s impossible. Castiel can’t be Dean. And Dean’s right, too, because Castiel doesn’t really want to be. He doesn’t want to give up gardening. He doesn’t want to work on Dean’s car. He doesn’t want to share a toothbrush.

He wants to spend time growing things. He wants his own hands in the dirt. He wants – he wants Dean, in the way that he has done since meeting Dean. And he wants to keep wanting.

Even if he didn’t want it, it’s what is. They’re two plants next to each other. Hoping not to be uprooted, hoping for sun, hoping for kind hands that stake them upright and water them even when they won’t flower. Always at the mercy of whatever storms might come, however hard Castiel tries to tangle himself together with Dean, camouflage with him, become just the same.

There are plants that do that, Castiel remembers. Plants that tangle and blend with other plants. They’re weeds. They choke out the first plant, cut off all its light and food until it dies. Two things can’t become one thing without loss. And Castiel doesn’t want to lose Dean – and, he realises quite suddenly, he also doesn’t want to lose himself. There’s so much he wants to do.

Things he might be able to do.

He looks at Dean, who’s watching him piece it all together, giving him time in silence, or maybe just struggling to find more words. But either way, Dean is still here. Dean is in front of him. A moment ago, they were hand in hand.

They could be again.

“You good?” Dean asks, seeming to sense Castiel come to a conclusion.

“Yes,” Castiel says. Dean visibly relaxes, shoulders easing under his coat. Castiel wants to put his hands on those shoulders. He wants to reach out. He wants to touch. He wants, wants, wants, and it feels like still growing, it feels like still changing, it feels like being alive. Like being himself.

He wants to hear Dean’s heartbeat. He wants his grace back. With a sudden absolute certainty, Castiel feels how much he wants his grace back.

He meets Dean’s eyes, and says simply,

“It’s here.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow, catching Castiel’s mood without his meaning.

“It’s here?”

“My grace,” Castiel says. “You were asking where it was. It’s here.”

“Here?” Dean looks confused.

Castiel can feel his mood unfurling, the parts of himself that he’s pushed away and hidden – the parts that have known all along he wants his grace back – finally allowed to breathe, finally being given what they need. He turns his attention to his garden, bending down next to the peach rose that has been so wilfully refusing to blossom.

“I didn’t expect anything to grow when I buried it here,” Castiel says to Dean, over his shoulder. “But then the first flowers came, and so I bought more, and then I put in the fence, and – it helped, being able to come here.” He puts out his hand towards the peach rose, speaking meditatively, almost not quite to Dean at all.

His fingertips brush the tightly closed buds, the sharpness of the thorns. Castiel lets that want for his grace rise up in him, unafraid of the feeling now that he knows it can be acted on. He closes his eyes, and feels for his grace.

It’s right there, waiting for him.

Brilliant and electric. Fast, so fast, and all colours, colours so bright they hiss and spit as they rocket up the stem of the peach rose and through Castiel’s fingers, filling his body with a fierce familiar hum. Castiel breathes in and smells every flower in the garden at once and the breeze and the tang of sap and the rich wetness of the soil and there, behind him, Dean. He breathes out ozone, heady.

He can feel the hat on his head, the way it rests on each hair. He can feel Dean’s closeness, the way the atoms of air jumble between them.

He can feel the sunshine on his face when it finally breaks through the clouds overhead.

The world is turning beneath his feet as it should. The plants around him are creaking as they grow. Dean is breathing a little quicker than usual, and Dean’s heartbeat – there it is. That sound Castiel has missed since the day he tore out his grace. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. Castiel closes his eyes more tightly and focuses in on it, loses himself briefly in its rhythm.

“Cas?” Dean says. His voice has all the layers Castiel can hear as an angel. Richer, deeper. He can hear the roughness that comes from the light scarring in Dean’s throat after years of hunting, calling out warnings and yelling in shock. He can hear the exact pitch at which Dean ends the single word, the note that means it’s a question and it’s shy and it’s hopeful and Dean is trying to hide all of it.

The sun is bright when Castiel opens his eyes. There on the peach rose, at the tip of the stem through which he drew out his grace from the earth, is a full-blossom flower. Blushing petals unfurled, just waiting to be looked at, to be touched. Castiel reaches up a finger, and presses it to the velvet centre.

He stands up, and turns to Dean, who’s looking at him with something in his eyes that’s just the same. Newly unfurled, wanting touch.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean’s face relaxes.

“Here all along, huh.” Dean says. “Damn it, Cas. And there was me, worrying where to find it for no goddamn reason.” The words are irritable but Dean’s tone is a betrayal of them, because it’s so gentle, so serious. Serious enough that Castiel doesn’t feel silly when he takes a step forward, closer to Dean.

He meets Dean’s eyes silently, asking a question.

“You still…?” Dean says.

Still what exactly, Castiel wonders. Still want this? Still want you? Still look at you and think about how anything else I’ve tried to care about felt like trying to follow a script written for a part I was never meant to play, but with you caring grows up without me even trying like a wild rose in good earth?

The answer to all of it is yes. It’s Dean, after all. The answer is yes.

Castiel doesn’t use words to say it. Dean barely used them to ask the question, it was all in his eyes and the way he’s still holding his arms slightly out to the sides as though hoping to have a reason to put them around someone, and so Castiel gives him a reason.

The closeness – Castiel has always thought it might be jarring, if it ever happened, to be in Dean’s space like this. Something he’s wanted for so long and imagined so many times that the reality would be strange. But it’s not strange, it’s – it’s just a little slow, and hushed. It’s so quiet in the garden as they come together. Hand touching hand. Then arms reaching up. Castiel’s eyes tracing the lines of Dean’s face, finally having time to do it in as much time as he chooses, because Dean’s going a pleased shade of red under his gaze.

“I, uh,” Dean says, his voice a little hoarse. Castiel tilts his head at a slight angle. “I, uh. I don’t know how to do this. When it’s you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I – I don’t know if you want me to…” Dean’s eyes drop to Castiel’s lips. Through angel’s eyes, Castiel can see the slight tremor in him, the way he leans in just a little and then pulls back, the way his muscles are tightening in uncertainty.

“Yes,” says Castiel simply. He reaches up, and tilts his hat back.

“But you… it’s…” Dean looks at him helplessly.

And Castiel thinks perhaps he understands. This thing between them, the way that Castiel feels, it’s – it’s alive, it’s wider and deeper than the sky. It’s everything. And they’re supposed to, what, kiss about it? As though it were the end of a fairy tale? The end of a second date?

But then, they’ve done all the rest of it before. They’ve done blood and big choices. They’ve done hands grasping for each other against every rule, against all the smart money. And now there’s just this.

There’s just Castiel leaning forwards, and seeing relief and happiness break through on Dean’s face like sunshine for a second, before they kiss.

Castiel feels his wings unfurl.

It’s still not Heaven. It’s not even close. But – Castiel pulls back, and sees the expression on Dean’s face, the way his eyes are wide and unbelieving and so, so happy. But it’s a place, where Castiel is growing things.

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #destiel fic #ahh I managed to finish it in time!! I'm so glad #I started this thinking it was gonna be something tiny and all fluff #and then this came out #what can you do #thank you so much to the mods for running the challenge #and to the artist for submitting such lovely art #and to sam wanderingcas for being herself in my vicinity

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darisu-chan · 3 years

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burnin' up

Welcome to another IR Month!

Today, I bring you this one-shot which is the opposite of keeping cool. Just what we need for this summer day.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

You can also read it here.

Prompt: keep your cool

Summary:When it is hot out, the best solution is to go to the beach and swim to keep cool…right?

It is terribly hot this summer.

Not that other summers haven’t been as hot, or even hotter than this. But for some reason, Ichigo feels the heat way more this year. He can’t quite put his finger on it. He just knows it is too hot and nothing he has tried so far has been able to cool him down. And, look, he was born in summer. He is used to the flames, the scorching heat, the shinning sun on his back. He does prefer sunny days to the rain, it’s true. And yet, this year the heat has been excruciating. Ice cream, ice cubes, fans. Nothing has seemed to work. At this point, he’s not sure there is anything out there that will make the heat go away.

If he’s this bothered, just imagine Rukia.

She is miserable.

Honestly, Ichigo wouldn’t have expected it to be any different. She was born in the middle of winter, and her zanpakutō is a snow one, a literal Snow White. Of course Rukia has never done great in the summer. But especially not this one. Summers in Karakura can be a pain in the ass, but Ichigo reiterates this summer in particular has been the worst so far. So, Rukia’s been a mess. Red hot cheeks, sweat running down her neck, short skirts, lethargy. It is obvious how uncomfortable she is. And, well, Ichigo feels for her. He doesn’t do the greatest in winter, so he can sympathize with her current state. He wants to do something for her. She had taken a few weeks off to visit him after all, and Ichigo can’t help but blame himself for her current state. If she had stayed in the Soul Society, maybe she wouldn’t feel like this. But no. He can’t afford to think in this way. So, instead, he looks for solutions until he finds one.

The beach.

It is so obvious he wants to slap himself.

Of course they should go to the beach!

It would still be hot, sure, however the ocean water and the breeze are always cool. Thank you, Pacific Ocean for your cold water! Besides, it is the only place where wearing little clothing is socially acceptable. Not to mention the cold drinks, ice popsicles, and other such delicacies that are sold on the beach. And the fact that going on a trip is always a welcome change in the routine. Ichigo’s not sure Rukia has gone many times to the beach, least of all to enjoy herself without worrying about the fate of the world.

So, it is decided that they will go.

“The beach?” Rukia mutters out loud once he tells her the news.

“Yep. The beach.” He simply answers and he can’t help the grin that forms on his mouth.

“What spurred this decision?” She questions him, clearly confused.

“Oh, I know what spurred this decision!” Old goat chin interjects from behind him, but Ichigo ignores him.

“I think it’d be better to enjoy the beach than being stuck here in this heat.”

Rukia stops and thinks for a moment, remembering the terrible heat she’s felt with no respite. She immediately nods her head.

“Agreed.”

That Monday, they decide, will be the day they go to the beach. They believe it will be less crowded than on a weekend, but given it is summer after all, it is a give or take. So for three days they prepare for the event, getting everything they will need: towels, a picnic basket, water bottles, swimsuits, backpacks, flip flops, sunscreen, and the like. For a moment, Ichigo stops and wonders if Rukia even knows how to swim ─ she flicks his forehead while rolling her eyes, “Tawake! Of course I know how to swim!” ─ All the while, he ignores Karin’s snide remarks, Yuzu’s smiles and his father’s perverted comments.

The night before they leave, Isshin even sits him down on his room, with a serious look on his face, which makes all the hair in Ichigo’s body stand on end.

“Now, son, I understand this is your first trip with Rukia with just the two of you, alone. So there are some things that, as a man, you need to know.”

Ichigo’s face starts burning as he stands up and sprints away from his father. Oh, hell no! He is not about to receive the talk when he’s already twenty one! And, yes, he’s pretty much aware this will be the first time he’s going to be alone with Rukia for a few days ever since their relationship changed. But it’s not like he’s planning on doing anything perverted! His intentions are pure, damnit! Yet, a little voice in his head wonders if this trip will make things change once more. When it comes to Rukia, he never knows how things are going to go. It is highly probable they will keep their hands to themselves. However, there is a teeny tiny possibility that they will cross uncharted territory. And, not gonna lie, that frightens Ichigo. Not because he doesn’t want to. But he is scared about the repercussion such a change might bring to their relationship. They have just been able to navigate this thing between them, he doesn’t want anything to ruin it! Particularly not such an adult thing to do. So, he puts those thoughts aside and goes to sleep. He tries to think about waves, sand, fish, beach balls, and definitely not in a scathingly clothed Rukia.

The next morning, Ichigo wakes up feeling refreshed and with a new outlook. He decides he is just going to enjoy this experience, whatever happens, with no expectations. When he meets Rukia in the kitchen, she is positively beaming. She is wearing a baby blue dress with a bow in the front. On her head rests a straw hat with a matching blue ribbon and her feet sport white sandals. She looks radiant. Ichigo has to look away for a moment, less he be forever blinded by her brilliance.

“Ready?”

“Yes!” She exclaims and off they go.

The trip to the beach is quiet. His old man had lent them his van and Ichigo is trying to focus on driving carefully. Though both are technically speaking not alive, that doesn’t mean their physical bodies can’t get hurt. Besides, he doesn’t want Isshin complaining about scratches on his car. Meanwhile, Rukia can’t stop staring outside the passenger seat window. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way her eyes light up the whole way. It is endearing how she manages to find magic in the most mundane of things. The road, cars, random buildings and establishments they pass by, the people. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s visited the human world, things will always be new for Rukia. Ichigo even spies her taking a picture here and there. It makes him feel happy. Happy that he can give him this. More memories. More life.

They make it to the beach by noon.

As expected, there are a lot of tourists there, but not as many as one would have expected. Neither desolate nor filled to the brim. Just the right amount of people. Rukia’s eyes turn ocean blue the moment they land on the golden sands of the beach. She squeals with unbridled joy and is about to sprint to the water when Ichigo stops her.

“We still gotta check in on the hotel.”

He had rented them a room. Nothing too fancy, he is a college student after all. But just enough to be comfortable. Ichigo goes through the usual motions. Gets their card on the lobby, and walks through the floors until they find their room. It is medium-sized with blue walls covered with paintings featuring boats and mermaids. There is just one bathroom, a mini fridge, an old TV. As it had been stated, nothing too fancy. But here is where Ichigo faces his first real problem. There is just one bed. He starts sweating the moment he realizes this, and wonders if he hadn’t specified he wanted two individual beds when he had made the reservations. Instead, there is a single queen sized bed in the room. Rukia doesn’t seem to care as she walks around the room, and opens the balcony to stare at the ocean. Internally, Ichigo screams. He hopes she is not thinking he is sleazy and that he had planned all of this trip with one purpose only. He tries to calm himself. Rukia knows him. She must know he’s not that kind of guy. And it’s not like they have never shared a room or even a bed before, for that matter. It’s just this will be the first time they will be alone. Completely alone with no one to interrupt them. Hopefully, not even Hollows.

While he is having a mental breakdown, Rukia is enjoying the cool breeze coming from the balcony. She opens all the windows and dances around the room. She opens the closet and the drawers. She discovers hangers and a notepad there. Then, she goes into the bathroom and she’s pleased to find a bathtub. Later tonight, she plans on taking a bubble bath to de-stress. Once her exploring is over, Ichigo has calmed down. Rukia is all smiles, with not a hint of displeasure in her face. She either hasn’t noticed the bed or hasn’t cared to think about the implications of it right now. He is grateful for that.

“Do you wanna go to the beach now?” He asks in case the literal elephant in the room is addressed.

Rukia nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”

They go downstairs and walk towards the beach while Rukia asks him a million of questions. Ichigo tries to answer all of them as best as he can. They talk about the peculiar birds she sees ─ “Those are called seagulls.” ─, the people, about volleyball and other beach activities, about the food, and even about Ichigo’s experiences at the beach. Finally, they find a spot under two umbrellas, and they set their towels down.

“We should put on sunscreen.” He says.

Rukia nods and reaches to the hem of her dress. She pulls it up to remove it, revealing inch by inch of creamy white skin. Ichigo’s first thought is that she will need to reapply sunscreen every two hours at least or she’s definitely going to get sunburned. His next thought is, wow, that’s too much skin! By all means, Rukia’s bikini is an average bikini as far as swimsuits go. The top doesn’t reveal too much cleavage and the bottom part covers everything that it should cover. But, man, he has never seen that much of her skin! Alright, that’s not exactly true. Though it’s not like anybody needs to know that! Still, this is new.

Rukia’s bikini is a deep violet, which matches her eyes. It has white polka dots, and the design is visually pleasing. Ichigo wonders where she had even gotten it. Had Urahara given it to her? He hopes not or he is going to kill the man. But regardless of where she got it, he can appreciate what it does to her figure. The top frames her breasts nicely. They look round and soft in it. Ready to be admired. Though small, Rukia has her own curves that he now gets to marvel at with no barriers. Small waist, small but rounded hips. Toned legs. He really doesn’t dare look at her behind, because he does have an inkling of what is awaiting him there, and he isn’t sure he is going to survive the view.

Ichigo feels in flames. Like he is burning and, by the end of this experience, there will be nothing left of him but ashes and bones.

“Ichigo, can you put sunscreen on my back? I don’t think I can reach all the way.”

Yep.

He is going to self-combust any moment now.

In hindsight, maybe this was a terrible idea. Because although his original intentions were pure, his mind is taking him to other places. Places that perhaps should remain unexplored. And, it’s been about a year since they first kissed. Six months since their relationship fundamentally changed. He never thought there would come a time in which he would be able to say Rukia was his. He has always been hers, but now she is his. Forever, they believe. But even that sounds simpler than advancing to the next level. His soul is hers. All hers. And his body wants to be hers as well. However, Ichigo isn’t sure she wants to be his in that way. Not yet at least. And, fuck, he is a man now. A man with his own curiosity and needs. A man madly in love with her. Can he be blamed for finding her the most gorgeous woman he has ever met? Can he be admonished for wanting her all to himself? Still, he shouldn’t objectify her. Shouldn’t make her think he sees her as a walking piece of meat. Rukia is much more than that. She is his person. The other piece of his soul. Even if he finds her irresistible.

No, Ichigo.

This trip is to keep cool and have fun. So keep it in your pants.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?”

Rukia suddenly questions and breaks him out from his internal conflict.

“Uh… sure.” He stammers like a high school boy and his cheeks redden.

She turns to look at him coyly.

“Come on, I don’t bite.”

Ichigo is not so sure about that.

This is going to be a long, long trip.

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #pro ichiruki #ichiruki fanfiction #my fanfiction

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years

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Cultural Exchange

Written for @kataang-week

Day 2: Blending Cultures

Words: 2,009

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

Summary: Katara has some selfish reasons for encouraging Aang to explore Fire Nation culture.

*******

Katara was starting to get worried as she walked up to Zuko's old family house on Ember Island. The outdoor furniture was smashed and splintered, and the door was ajar, hanging off its hinges. She sped up, beginning to panic, and ran up the stairs onto the porch.

She threw the door all the way open forcefully. "Hello!? Aang?"

She was greeted by a chorus of pained male groans.

"Close the door!" Haru wailed, shielding his eyes from the bright morning light that was now flooding the front room of the house. All the other young men, basically every male friend their group had made since leaving the South Pole, gave similar cries of distress from where they were strewn haphazardly across sofas and armchairs.

Katara sighed in relief, but then grew annoyed at the boys for scaring her. Instead of closing the door, she moved to the windows and threw all the curtains open.

"You're evil!" moaned Te'o from the floor, where he had fallen out of his chair.

"What exactly happened to those plans for a laid back, calm bachelor party?" Katara asked the room harshly, "How did it go? 'Oh don't worry, Katara, Zuko's not one to throw wild parties!'"

"Uggghhh, I"m not, but I'm friends with a lot of bad influences," came a weak voice from under a coffee table.

Katara laughed at the sight of the soon-to-be-married Firelord crawling out from under the table, looking like he had been put through a dozen successive Agni Kais. But her laughter died and she gasped when she saw what was on Zuko's head.

"Zuko, what happened!?"

"What does it look like? Your brother got us drunk."

"No, I mean what happened to your hair!"

Katara bent all the water from a nearby vase and froze it into a flat, shiny mirror, and held it up to Zuko's face. His eyes widened in horror and he leapt to his feet, upending the table.

All of his hair had been reduced to a narrow strip down the center of his head. That hair had been left long, and was tied back, but both sides of it had been shaved down to his scalp.

He recognized this look. It was exactly the way Sokka had his hair when Zuko had first encountered him.

"Aw Zuko, I'm touched!" crooned Katara dramatically. "Showing your support for rebuilding Southern Tribe culture by sporting a warrior's wolf tail!"

Zuko stared in disbelief at his reflection. He raised his shaking hands to the sides of his face.

"I look like I stuck my head between two grinding stones," Zuko muttered.

"Oh, don't say that, I'm sure once the Firelord is seen sporting this hairdo at his wedding, it will be all the rage across the Fire Nation," said Katara with a grin.

Zuko buried his face in his hands. "Oh, spirits, the wedding! Mai's going to kill me."

Katara was about to agree, but was interrupted by a scream of anguish and horror coming from the bathroom.

Katara and Zuko both bolted across the room and down the hall. She whipped out her bending pouch, ready to slice the door open, but lucky it was still unlocked. She kicked the door open and her blood froze in fear again as she saw Sokka doubled over, his face buried in the sink and his hands over his head.

"Sokka, what's wrong!?" asked Katara urgently, placing her hands on her brother's back. "Are you hurt—oh…."

She jumped back and gasped when Sokka turned to face her, his lip quivering.

He was completely bald, with a crude painted blue arrow leading from the back of his head, ending between his eyebrows.

Katara's chuckle at Zuko's expense was nothing compared to the explosion of laughter that erupted out of her now. She had to put a hand on the wall to steady herself as she shook until she was out of breath.

"Well, it was just a regular festival of cultural exchange last night, wasn't it?" she squeaked out.

"This isn't funny, Katara!" said Sokka desperately. "You don't understand, it's not coming off! It's real! And my hair! Next time I visit home, my brain is gonna freeze!"

"Oh, calm down," she said dismissively. She grabbed her brother's cheeks and pulled him down to inspect his new body art. "There's no inflammation on the skin, it's not a real tattoo. You just found some...wow, really durable face paint."

She looked him in the eye suspiciously. "Where did you get this stuff?"

"Uuuuhhh," said Sokka uncertainly. He turned to Zuko. "Where did we get this stuff?"

"Uuuuhhh," Zuko concurred.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You don't even remember last night?"

"I can remember most of it," said Zuko defensively. "Things just get a little fuzzy after that bottle of moonpeachshine got opened. He was the one who brought that, so really this is all his fault."

"Hey, I don't remember tying you up and forcing the stuff down your throat, Lord Lots o' Shots," replied Sokka.

"Where's Aang?" Katara suddenly said, her grin wiped from her face.

For a moment, they just looked at each other in silence, then ran through the house again.

After searching the whole house and not finding Aang, Katara was beginning to panic again. But when she checked the back garden, she found Appa there sleeping soundly. A lumpy mass was sitting on the bison's head: a human body, the top half covered by a blanket, but long legs protruded from underneath, with blue arrows ending at the feet.

"Aang!" Katara called as she ran towards him, and thankfully the tattooed feet stirred. Aang slowly sat up, squeezing his eyes shut at the sunlight as the blanket fell from his face.

"Oh come on!" Katara sighed in relief. "You too?"

"What?" he mumbled, getting his bearings. He reached up to scratch his head, and discovered what was itching him.

Aang was wearing a wig. Avatar Aang, the mightiest being in the world, was hungover with a lopsided wig of black hair glued to his head. The foreign hair was pulled back into a knot that was contained by what Katara recognized as Avatar Roku's old hairpin.

Aang reached up and felt the hairpin, and winced. "Oh Spirits, I had hoped that was a dream."

"So you actually remember what happened?" asked Zuko, joining them outside along with Sokka, who had put a hat on to avoid getting sunburned.

"Well last night, Sokka got excited by this idea of me wearing Roku's hairpin at the wedding, as a sign of the Fire Nation's commitment to the Avatar and the balance of the world. I wasn't as intoxicated as he was, so I pointed out to him that one needs hair in order to wear a hairpin crown."

"Oh yeah!" said Sokka, remembering now, "Seems like a short sighted fashion decision."

"It's not short-sighted, that's the point," said Zuko irritably, "When royals or generals suffer a great defeat, they cut their hair off. The crowns of the Fire Lord and Prince are designed so that you can't wear them unless you've gone long enough without a defeat to have enough hair to wear it."

"Yeah, you said all this last night," said Aang. "Then Sokka suggested that I could borrow some hair, and we asked who would have extra hair to borrow, and that's how we ended up partying with the—"

"The Ember Island Players," Zuko finished in horror. "Oh, kill me now, this is going to be the subject of their worst play yet."

"I certainly hope so," said Katara. "I'll be there opening night."

"The wig and the facepaint….seemed like a good idea at the time," finished Aang painfully.

"Well if this stuff doesn't come off my face soon, then the Firelord is going to have to have them interrogated about how they undo it," said Sokka.

"Oh I will?" asked Zuko, raising his eyebrow. "The way I see it, I just have a bad haircut, I didn't put any crap on my head, so you can go begging for them on your own."

"It is not a bad haircut!" said Sokka angrily. "You're now the best looking guy here, saving my dignity is the least you can do."

"I might need help getting this thing off me too," mumbled Aang, futilely pulling at the wig. "And we should probably put this back in a safe spot."

He detached Roku's hairpin crown from his knot, and Katara gasped as his hair (that wasn't actually his hair) fell from it.

The messy black hair fell to the base of his neck, covering his ears and hanging in bangs over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. He scrunched his face in annoyance and brushed the hair away from his face. Katara felt her face grow hot as she watched her boyfriend's fingers run through the hair, and an image floated up in her mind of her fingers replacing them.

Zuko and Sokka went back into the house, Zuko cheekily offering to melt the facepaint off of Sokka, and promised to keep most of his face intact, as Aang climbed down off of Appa, still pulling at the mop glued to his head.

"I need to find a way to get this thing off me," Aang grumbled. "It won't stay out of my face, people can't see my arrow."

"Well, we can't have that," Katara chuckled. "The world can't know that the last airbender has broken such an important air nomad requirement as the sacred chrome dome."

"Well, it's not a requirement," said Aang, "but I still suspect I look far too much like Zuko for my taste—"

"Wait, really?" Katara cut him off, her eyes widening.

"Well you tell me. I don't have a mirror, but I suddenly feel the urge to sulk and reclaim my honor— "No, I mean, shaving your head isn't a requirement or anything?" Katara asked quickly.

Aang seemed surprised by her question. "Uh... no. Most of the boys did anyway, because it gives you a slight edge in airbending, since your skin is in tune with the air currents. We all had to shave it once, when we got our arrows, but most girls grew it back."

He continued to fidget with the wig as he started walking back towards the house, seemingly oblivious to the blush creeping up his girlfriend's face.

Katara tried to act casual as she fell in step with Aang and linked her arm with his.

"Sooooo...hypothetically speaking," she began, not looking at him, "you could have a full head of hair. If you wanted to."

Aang shrugged. "Yeah. But I've never really felt the desire to. With hair, you have to wash it, and there's so many different haircuts to pick from, it's easier to just shave it in the morning."

He turned to look at her curiously. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason!" she said innocently.

They walked in silence for a few seconds, then a strong morning breeze blew past them and Katara felt her knees grow weak as Aang's messy "hair" whipped in the wind, dancing around his handsome face beautifully, in a way his real hair had never grown long enough to do.

"I was just thinking Sokka might be onto something!" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "You know, about wearing Roku's crown. Maybe the Avatar adopting a few Fire Nation fashions will placate a few of the naysayers, who say that you're a foreign interloper. It will show them that you're their Avatar too. It would be a great exchange and blending of cultures, to reflect peaceful cooperation."

Aang frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I….guess that kind of makes sense." He shrugged and chuckled. "I'm still definitely going to get this hair off me, though. Then I can decide whether to start growing my own."

"Hmmm….yeah," Katara whispered greedily under her breath, "I bet that'll look even hotter."

"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you."

"Nothing!" she squeaked, and ran back into the house.

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